


Cabin Fever

by brimstonegold, virtualpersonal



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Cravings, Desire, Hot Sex, Hunter Dean, Internal Conflict, Jealousy, Light Bondage, M/M, Romance, Sexy Times, vampire spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brimstonegold/pseuds/brimstonegold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a miserably cold and rainy afternoon, Dean takes shelter in a cabin that is already occupied by a mysterious man who offers to share more than his coat and food.  One night is not enough for either man, but can Dean stomach the fact that the man who gives him fever is one of the things he hunts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Co-written with Brimstonegold

It was fucking freezing. That was the only thing that kept going through Dean Winchester's mind as he shivered in his wet clothes. 

Somewhere out in these woods was a supernatural creature. Their father's journal indicated something hit this area every seven to twelve years, usually right near the first day of spring. There weren't many campers out but there were always a few lunatics. It had been four days since the latest victim, a six year old kid, "Sean Harris," had been snatched from a rental cabin. The rangers had search parties out but with it dropping into the twenties or thirties at night, they were trying to prepare the parents for the sad fact it was more and more unlikely the kid was going to make it if he had simply wandered off.

The dad was out with the search parties when Dean had gone to see to the Harris family. After talking with the mother, Alyssa, and the kid's older sister, Willow, Dean learned the door to the cabin was locked, the windows were shut, and it was an overcast night. The family was returning from a vacation of skiing in the mountains (their first vacation in five years apparently) and had booked a two night stay in the cabin. They went to bed early after a day of hiking and an "exciting" night of playing board games. Four went to sleep in that cabin but only three were there come morning. No one had heard anything. The door was still locked and the windows were still shut. There were some odd prints in the ground around the cabin but the rangers assured the parents they were harmless animal tracks, probably a herd of deer. Willow described the tracks that she had seen and it jived with what John Winchester had theorized. A goblin. 

Goblins didn't like sunlight and they tended to stay in caves or even burrows. While they didn't eat people generally (they were omnivores so it was possible), they stole kids away and made them slaves. When the kid got too big, big enough to be a danger to the three or four foot goblin or goblins, they were killed, plain and simple. The good thing was that if a goblin had taken Sean, Sean was almost certainly still alive. The bad thing was that goblins were a bitch to track down. They apparently stank worse than a dozen skunks in a small room, but you had to get close enough to smell them and their lair and they were pretty damned good at camouflaging those lairs. 

While Dean was out on recon, Sam was back at the only motel in town researching past disappearances and looking at topographic maps. Dean had called and let him know that it looked like the searchers had pretty much obliterated any obvious tracks near the Harris cabin. A little ways away, Dean had found two that he thought _might_ be goblin tracks and following in their direction found the footbridge that led to his current very wet condition. 

Sure the footbridge was old, but he sure as hell hadn't thought it was in that bad of shape until he was halfway across and the boards creaked and gave suddenly and he tumbled twenty feet into the icy waters of the swollen river below. He cursed the strong current the whole time he struggled to reach the east bank of the river and avoid getting slammed into any of the debris the melting snow had brought down with it from the mountains. He was only partially successful in that avoidance as he collided with a tree and knew he would have some nice bruising along his hip and thigh. Swimming fully clothed, in boots, and a duffel bag over his shoulder full of weapons didn't make it any easier. 

A mile downstream he finally managed to reach the bank and find a place where he could pull himself up and out of the water. The temperatures were in the fifties and he was a good ten miles in on the trails. He would have been just fine if he hadn't soaked himself to the bone in frigid water that ought to have fucking icebergs in it, it was so fucking cold. Even doing the ten miles assuming his best speed in this terrain, it would be an hour and a half before he reached the warmth of his car. This was going to suck and he'd be lucky, hell, lottery winning lucky, if he didn't come down with hypothermia long before then. 

It was late afternoon and the temperature was dropping. He broke into a light jog, cursing his soaked boots and socks that squished with every step he took. After about a mile he found a trail and after quickly orienting himself with his map that was falling apart, he began heading back down the mountain and to his car. He stopped when he heard the low rumble of thunder and looked behind him to see black clouds. Great. Awesome. Fucking swell.

The black clouds rolled in fast and with it the pouring rain. If he hadn't already been soaked, he was now drenched and his teeth were beginning to chatter. The damned rain wasn't due in until tomorrow afternoon. Fucking weathermen. Couldn't get a freaking thing right. 

He knew he had to face the fact he was not going to make it down the mountain without falling into hypothermia. He pulled out the drenched map again. There should be a cabin up ahead. He picked up his pace and it wasn't long before, through the pouring rain and spring foliage, he made out what he thought might be the hulking shape of a cabin. The slippery, muddy trail branched and he took the left fork. Within about 300 feet he was stepping out of the rain and onto the porch of the cabin with a relieved sigh. The curtains were pulled tightly closed and from the small sliver where the material didn't overlap, it looked like the cabin was dark inside. He knocked a couple of times, and then getting no answer, picked the lock and opened the door. The day cast gray shadows deep into the cabin but there was enough light to make it apparent it wasn't currently rented out.

He pulled out his cell phone and shook the water off as he stepped inside, hoping the damned thing still worked after the double drenching. Opening it up he grinned at the sight. Finally. A little bit of luck. It worked and had a signal. He speed dialed Sam.

"Hey," Sam said almost distractedly as he studied the map lying on the table in front of him at the motel.

"Dude, it's raining like a mother-fucker and I'm soaked. Found an empty cabin," Dean began going through the cupboards and found some canned goods and even a half eaten box of cereal, even if it was probably stale. "Yahtzee. Food and a fireplace. I'm going to crash here for the night."

Sam sat back at that. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Looks like Dad nailed it."

"Goblin," Sam said, almost relieved. It would be tough finding it but at least, for once, time wasn't against them. "You find any tracks?"

"About a mile east of the Harris cabin near the Telleran River, right about where that second 'L' in 'Telleran' is on the map. When's the rain s'posed to end?"

"It wasn't supposed to be here yet. Hang on." Sam pulled up the weather map on his computer. "Looks like sometime tonight, maybe as early as ten or eleven. They're saying more rain is coming in tomorrow afternoon."

"Awesome," Dean said sarcastically. "I'll call you in the morning and we'll figure out our game plan. My phone got wet, so don't panic if you don't hear from me. I'm kinda surprised it works considering I went for a swim."

"What? What were you doing swimming?"

"Wasn't my idea. The bridge looked sturdy enough," Dean said nonchalantly. "Dude, freezing my ass here. Need to get the fire going. If I don't call, I'll head back to the car and show up on your doorstep." 

"Wait, at least tell me where you are," Sam said, not liking the idea of Dean up in the mountains without him and without a phone, even if it was just a goblin. 

Dean spread the soaking wet map on the table, it ripping at some of the folds. "I'm at a cabin on the East trail, probably about eight miles in. Should be around K-17 on the map, cabin 29."

Sam looked at the map of the trails and cabins provided by the park service and scanned over it. "Okay, got it. If I don't hear from you by the afternoon..."

"Yeah, yeah. Bring cheeseburgers and beer. Trails are gonna be slick bastards so I probably won't make it out until about ten."

Sam chewed on his lower lip and shook his head. "No, stay where you are. I've got some ideas where the goblin might be holed up and knowing where you found the tracks, I think I can narrow it down. I'll come in to you in the morning."

No hike out only to hike back in? Dean could deal with that. Now all he needed was a sweet babe to curl up with in front of the crackling fire that he was getting damned anxious to get started. And to get out of his sopping wet clothes. "Sounds good. Remember, cheeseburgers and beer. And pie."

"Talk to you tomorrow, Dean," Sam said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Be careful."

"Dude, empty cabin. I'm fine. Bye, Sammy."

"It's _Sam--_ " he heard as he closed the phone and chuckled to himself.

"Or not, _empty_ , that is," Spike drawled, having come down the narrow stairs from the small loft. He'd been taking shelter from the daylight and now stood watching the husky voiced man who had his back to him and who was dripping water in a puddle around his feet. He guessed the bloke was one of the volunteer searchers who'd gotten separated from the rest of the group.

Dean damned near jumped out of his skin. It was hard to surprise him but the voice had come out of nowhere it seemed, the man silent as a ghost, and in Dean's line of business that was just plain bad. The hunter spun, dropping his duffel bag so the straps were wrapped in one hand. The sawed-off shotgun would be useless, the salt probably dissolved in the shells because of the river, but the other weapons would be fine if he had the time to get them out. Getting them out of the pack was the second step though as Dean's first instinct was to use the bag to slam into whatever--whoever--had spoken. A duffel full of weapons upside the head could ruin just about anyone's day.

The man was pale, dressed in a long leather coat, his hair bleached so blond it was practically white and he had high, distinct cheekbones. Dean topped him by a couple inches. In the dim lighting Dean couldn't read the stranger's eyes. His accent was British and at first glance, he was pretty damned hot for a guy. After giving the man a once over and seeing that the man didn't appear to be threatening, he let the breath out of his lungs slowly.

Putting on the charm and relaxing his stance, though he kept the duffel ready if needed, Dean gave the Brit a friendly smile. "Sorry. I didn't see any packs or stuff so I thought it wasn't rented out and I could get out of the rain. If you'll let me dry out and warm up, I'd appreciate the hell out of it. I'm Dean, Dean Young." He hoped the guy didn't wonder how Dean had gotten past the locked front door but he could pass it off as old cabins, cheap locks or something if he had to.

"Makes two of us, yeah? Not my cabin, I got out of the rain," the man said, walking closer, "Spike." His gaze fell on the pack Dean held ready, and he cocked his head. "You don't look like a hiker." Thing of it was, he'd never thought the man was a hiker, but now he wondered if he'd been wrong about him being part of the search teams. What if he had something to do with the disappearance of Xander's boy?

Spike? Dean studied the man. He was reserved, cautious, but Dean could appreciate that. If he didn't know a goblin was the most likely culprit for the kidnapping, he would wonder if this man, off alone this far back in the mountains even if it was at a park cabin, might be involved. He didn't see a pack, which was unusual, but it could be upstairs he supposed, guessing that's where the man came from. The biker boots the man wore, not unlike his own, might explain the name 'Spike.' 

"That's because I'm not exactly a hiker," Dean explained. "I'm with the forestry service. I was on vacation but a kid went missing so I'm doing what I can to help." Dean dug in his pocket and pulled out the wet paper with the kid's picture on it. It was pretty much toast from the soaking but you could make out the basics. He set it on the counter beside the map and poked his index finger at it. "Sean Harris, six year old kid, dark hair, taken from his cabin a couple miles from here. Don't suppose you've heard or seen anything unusual?" Dean didn't figure the guy had, but hell, who knew. And just in case the kid wasn't taken by a goblin but a human monster instead, he watched the guy's reaction closely. 

That explained the no uniform, but the duffle bag was still a bit of a puzzle to Spike. It wasn't Spike's business though, so long as the man had nothing to do with the disappearance, and if he did, the questioning made no sense since he couldn't know Spike was here for the same reason. "I know Sean," he said, watching Dean's reactions just as intently as Dean was watching his. "His parents are friends. Xander called me to help with the search."

Deciding Dean wasn't a threat, or that it would be better to find out now if he was, Spike turned his back to him and pulled his duster off as he walked toward the fireplace, dropping his coat on the arm of a chair before getting some fire wood from the wood basket. "You should get out of those wet clothes. Use my coat if you like," he said, crumpling some old newspapers that were stacked nearby, and using them as tinder then stacking the logs over the paper. Using his lighter, he set a long piece of rolled up paper on fire, and then pushed it in with the tinder, making sure it caught. 

Though he appeared relaxed, he was very aware of Dean, both in the sense that he was prepared if the man wasn't up to any good, and in another sense. It had been a long time since a male had stirred Spike's interest, and this one, with his perfect features and eyes he'd wanted to stare into for far longer than he had, certainly had done that. If the timing wasn't off... Yeah, Spike might look to see if the bloke was interested in scratching the itch he'd bloody well started.

 _A friend of the family?_ Dean thought. _The name Xander wasn't anywhere on the missing person flyers and I only know the father's name from talking with the wife,_ Dean mused. So why wasn't Spike with the search teams? Maybe he hadn't joined up yet? Seemed odd though. Still, the guy was starting a fire and Dean was shivering at this point. After a moment, he gently set his pack on the table, trying to keep the weapons from making noise as they settled against each other. Dammit he needed to get them out and drying too. Sure all the weapons were well oiled, but it just galled him to think of them sitting in his wet pack as soaked as he was.

He looked at the leather duster Spike offered and wasn't sure it was broad enough in the shoulders. He needed a blanket but he suspected this place was a bring your own sheets sort of place. The place didn't have electricity, and it was damned unlikely there was anything in the place to wrap up in. If he took off his pants, there went the gun he had tucked in the holster in the back of his waistband.

Fuck it. He was cold, they were both guys, and Spike had offered the coat. He'd leave his undershorts on even if they were wet. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the chair to dry, then began pulling off the layers of shirts, tossing them in the sink. He'd ring them out once his teeth stopped chattering. If the guy turned out to be trouble, Dean wasn't really worried. He could take the guy down pretty easily he figured. 

He pulled his gun and holster free of his jeans and quietly slipped them into a jacket pocket then sat down and pulled off his boots and socks. After a moment of hesitation he peeled off his wet jeans and strode over to the coat. As he feared, the shoulders weren't broad enough. He had to settle for draping it over his shoulders though he'd have just wrapped it around his waist if he wasn't half frozen.

Walking over to the fireplace and the fire beckoning him, he couldn't help but let his gaze rove over the man's backside and the curve of his ass as he knelt there. Yeah, a nice body. A real nice body. "The coat's a little small so you're gonna see more of me than you might be comfortable with. Sorry for that. If there's a blanket in this shack, I'd 'appreciate it if you could find it. Thanks for getting the fire started," Dean chattered, moving in as close to the fire as he could manage. 

Damn his skin was like ice. The fire was barely going but even the small bit of heat felt good. Unintentionally he mind popped up with the thought of how it might be nice to share a little body heat with the guy. He smirked. Yeah, that probably wouldn't put them on good terms if he hit on the guy with that suggestion. He'd probably get his ass slugged for it. He glanced down at the damage he'd taken from getting slammed into that tree while he was 'swimming.' Bruised and scraped. That was gonna hurt like a mother in the morning. At least there was only a little bit of watery blood, the scrapes just enough to give a drop beading up here and there but he was gonna have to clean it out. If there wasn't any soap, he'd use his flask of alcohol. After he got warm. He pulled the coat away from the wound, not wanting to get blood on the guy's coat.

Spike smelled the blood and turned and looked up to see Dean's scraped thigh through the opening of the coat. His gaze roved higher, over his abs and chest, then to his face. He saw that Dean's teeth were chattering together. 

Getting up, he pushed the sofa closer to the fire place. "Sit here, but not any closer," he said. "Unless you want to lose your bits." His gaze had dropped to the center of Dean's body for just a moment, but he turned away and headed for the kitchen. Right, he knew what his body was telling him loud and clear, but he didn't think Dean would be interested.

Dean settled onto the couch. Yeah, the guy was right. He had to be careful but the 'lose your bits' almost had him snorting with laughter. With the way his underwear was soaked, his 'bits' were pretty damned obvious, though for as cold as he was his bits were just that. Little bits. And that almost made him laugh too. Okay, maybe the cold was getting to him more than he thought. 

A moment later, Spike returned with a bottle of whiskey and passed it to Dean. He watched as Dean's shaky hand brought the bottle to his mouth, and heard it clatter against his teeth. Dropping down onto the couch next to Dean, he put his hands out and waved for him to put his legs up. "Come on then, put your legs over me. I'll give you a rub down." His gaze clashed with greens, but he didn't look away.

The burn of the whiskey was good, and it was decent whiskey on top of it all. At Spike's order, he cocked an eyebrow at the guy. He was sitting all but naked in front of a fireplace, a stranger's coat just about his only clothing, and the guy wanted him to put his legs on his lap. Dean met the man's brazen gaze and after another swig of whiskey gave a shrug. Warmth. That was all he cared about right now. He'd probably offer up the same if he came across a guy in the condition. Dean twisted and stretched his legs out across the man's lap. Yeah the good looking guy could rub him down, rub him up, and rub him any way he wanted to.

"So why 'Spike'?" Dean asked.

Starting to rub Dean's leg from knee to ankle, Spike raised startled eyes up to meet his. "Doesn't make a good story. Besides, it falls in the category of 'I'd have to kill you if I told you,'" he said, rubbing a little harder, his thumbs digging into Dean's muscles, while his palms moved quickly over his skin to generate heat.

Dean laughed a little. "Yeah. I got stories like that." Damn, the guy knew how to give a decent massage and his touch was definitely warming Dean up in more ways than one. That was going to be all sorts of awkward if he got much more warmed up in one area because it wasn't like he had any way to hide it if his cock decided it was warm enough to make a reappearance and show its heartfelt interest. He could always pull the coat off his shoulders and drape it over his lap if he had to.

Spike moved to Dean's other leg, eventually rubbing the man's foot between his hands. His gaze was already traveling up his thighs and he could almost feel his flesh of those powerful muscles rippling under his hands. When he finally moved his hands up to Dean's inner thigh, he met his gaze again, and saw a flash of interest. "Not making you uncomfortable, am I?" he smirked, brushing his hand lightly across Dean's abs as he moved around to his other thigh.

Dean couldn't help but notice the man looking him over. Huh, maybe he wouldn't get slugged after all. Then Spike's hands moved up to his thigh and oh yeah, his freezing little pecker began to creep its way out of its warm little spot inside him. If was fucking amazing how far a guy could draw up when cold. Thoughts of being cold were rapidly being replaced with other more interesting thoughts. His stomach clenched at the light touch of the man's strong hands. Dean took a long draw on the bottle of whiskey locking his gaze with the other man.

Chuckling softly Dean shook his head once. "You'd have to try a lot harder to make me uncomfortable." He let his own gaze drift over the man's body, then returned cool eyes to the stranger. He focused a moment on his mouth and thought of how long it had been since he'd had a man's lips around his cock. Dean licked his own lips and let his thoughts meander down that path, thinking how he really wouldn't mind remedying that in the near future. In the very near future if Blues Eyes' hands crept up much higher. The rain was still pounding down, his clothes were still sopping wet in the sink and on the floor, and it wasn't like he could really go out after the kid at the moment. He was still too damned cold if nothing else and they'd have the most success in morning, looking in the mud for fresh tracks. 

"That an invitation?" Cocking his head, Spike pushed each of his hands up Dean's thighs, brushing lightly over his cock, then working on his stomach and chest. As Dean's muscles tightened under his palms, he cursed softly, "bloody hell." Slowly, he slid his hands up and down Dean's sides, and leaned in a little, wanting to pull him up against his body and to kiss those tempting lips. "Been told I'm one of those people who takes a mile, if you give an inch," he warned gravely.

"Thought you guys did the metric thing," Dean murmured, making no move to stop anything the man was doing. 

"The 'inch thing' was ours too." Spike's hands slipped up Dean's chest, lingering over his nipples, then rubbing him down properly, before his motions turned once again into caresses. 

Oh, hell yeah, was Dean's thought when he felt Spike's hands running over him and there was no doubt the man was warming him up. He arched a little as the man's hands drifted over his nipples. He saw the lust growing in the man's eyes and knew his own were probably looking just as hungry. 

On hand slipped up the column of Dean's throat, the vampire swallowing as he felt the strong pulse under his hand, before moving it to the side of Dean's face. "Just warming your lips, yeah?" It was the only warning he gave before leaning all the way in and covering Dean's mouth with his own. He pushed his tongue past Dean's lips, into the heat of his mouth, and immediately tangled their tongues together. The bloke might be cold, but his unique taste mixed with whiskey... it was so bloody hot, a low moan escaped the vampire. 

Dean wrapped his arms around the man's hard body and pulled him up tightly against him. The man could kiss, that was for damned sure. 

Spike's moan was all it took for Dean to echo it as he reached one hand between them and ran his hand over the man's groin, feeling that hardened flesh trapped inside his pants. He was really regretting leaving his wet underwear on, but that would be easy enough to remedy soon. His sole focus at the moment was threading his fingers in Spike's belt and tugging on it, getting it to release. His hand was deft and fast as he flicked open the button to Spike's pants and cracked the zipper enough to reach inside and stroke that firm flesh with a needy moan. He expected more heat to be radiating from the man, especially in his groin, but he just chalked it up to them both being cold. They wouldn't be for much longer.

Oh yeah, this man wasn't shy. He was forward, and adventurous, and demanding, just the way Spike liked. Moaning as Dean's hand moved over his cock, Spike deepened the kiss, tongue fucking Dean's mouth, thrusting it in and out as he slid his hand up and down Dean's throat, using it to move Dean's face from side to side, where he needed it. He tasted so good, like the rain. His heart was strong, and powerful, its beats reverberating through the vampire, sending his need spiraling.

Dean hadn't been tongue-fucked like this in a long time. Okay maybe never. The man's strong hand at his throat was guiding and pushing him just where the man wanted him to go. Dean's fingers curled and his nails dug into Spike's back, then slid down to that strong ass he had admired. He thrust his finger through the belt loops and tugged, using his other hand to open the zipper fully, giving him better access to the man's cock. It also gave him the room to slide his hand down the back side of Spike's jeans, which he took full advantage of, reaching in and squeezing the man's firm ass. 

Spike's cock thickened and hardened under Dean's touch, making the vampire ache for more. He groped his way down Dean's chest, then curled his fingers around the waistband of his wet shorts. One quick strong tug as Dean lifted up, and the shorts were half way down his legs. He pulled them all the way off and dropped them next to the couch, and immediately closed his palm over Dean's cock, pressing it against Dean's thigh and squeezing. As he felt blood surge to the man's cock, he groaned again, breaking the kiss to allow Dean to breath, but quickly reclaiming his lips.

Dean drew in a deep breath when Spike finally let him, gasping as Spike's hand put pressure on his stiffening cock. He was used to topping, to being the more aggressive one, but there was no way to roll them over so he could be on top without them falling off the damned couch. And Spike had too many damned clothes on. Spike's mouth was already back on his before he had a chance to divest Spike of his shirt. Then he was being tongue-fucked to within an inch of his life again, moaning into the man's mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, he was melting like a virgin, losing all control to this man. He wasn't used to that either or to groaning like a porn star as Spike's aggression inflamed his lust to new heights.

Dean moved his hand from Spike's ass to the crack between the cheeks, running his middle finger down until he felt that sweet puckered flesh under his touch. He pressed and circled there, matching the rhythm of the tongue fucking he was getting as his other hand stroked Spike's hard cock, thumbing his slit and coaxing the pre-cum free. 

Bloody hell, if he wasn't careful, this man would bring him off before he wanted. Resisting the intense urge to thrust into Dean's fist harder, Spike concentrated on pleasuring Dean, wanting to see this man who seemed too sure of himself completely out of control. Instead of taking his cock in his hand and stroking, he kept pushing and squeezing it against Dean's thigh, rubbing his palm up and down, loving how hard it grew, how it throbbed and leaked. Even when Dean thrashed and lifted his hips, Spike kept kneading his cock, trapping it against Dean's flesh, using the man's own thigh to stimulate and frustrate him.

Any attempt for Dean to focus was rapidly disintegrating under Spike's skillful, if maddening, stimulation. He would have demanded Spike take hold of him, jack him, but his mouth was too full of Spike's dancing tongue. His chilled skin felt scorched everywhere it touched Spike. He hadn't even gotten Spike undressed yet for chrissake. Fuck, with a lover like this all the time, he could probably give up women without looking back. The man was probably around Dean's age but shit, this man knew his business.

"Fuck, Spike, dammit," Dean managed to gasp when Spike broke their kiss. He was panting hard and trying to thrust and find satisfaction. He was still stroking Spike's own shaft but it was erratic as the guy worked Dean into a frenzy. Before Dean could demand Spike finish him already, that hot mouth that tasted of cigarettes and whiskey and Spike was pressed against his own and Dean was moaning into it. He was fucking putty in this guy's hands.

As their tongues clashed, Spike sensed Dean's growing need. He finally closed his fist around the man's thick cock and stroked a few times, before pushing Dean's cock down against Dean's belly. Using both thumbs, he started to press down and stroke up the sides and underside of Dean's cock, from his balls, all the way up his shaft, hard and fast, groaning into his mouth as Dean bucked up.

Dean's eyes widened at the entirely new stimulation Spike was giving him. He moaned loudly and his hips thrust and bucked and there wasn't a damned thing he could do. Spike was bringing him off, finally, and it felt amazing. He gave up trying to maintain any control whatsoever and let his body do what it wanted or rather, whatever Spike wanted it to do. 

When Dean stopped stroking him completely, Spike repositioned so his arousal pressed against Dean's thigh, giving him the pressure he needed each time Dean bucked and thrust. He rode Dean's arousal as much as the man himself, encouraging him to thrash harder, doing everything in his power to make it so.

Dean rode the climaxing pressure, the pleasure, the pain of his need to come until he felt his balls tighten. He wrapped his arms around the man, pulling Spike close as he arched, the release tightening every muscle in his body. His cock pulsed hard, shooting hot spunk between them as Dean shouted into Spike's mouth. The orgasm shook him, rolling out from his groin in waves of ecstasy. 

Dean's shout, the urgent tugging on him, pushed Spike over the edge a moment behind, fucking into Dean's leg even as he kept stroking him, milking him of everything he had. As the ache low in his belly eased, he kissed Dean more gently, sucking on his lower lip as he pulled away. Staring into jade eyes still fuzzy with lust, he used his knuckles to stroke the side of the man's face. "They didn't teach you this in forestry school, did they?"

Dean groaned softly as Spike pulled away. He blinked in momentary confusion at Spike's comment then chuckled. "Uh, no. No they didn't. I've got no complaints wherever you learned that whole warming up someone bit, though." He leaned up and kissed Spike again, slipping his tongue in for a moment then laid his head back down, breaking the kiss. "Gotta teach you about this concept called breathing though. Damn, dude."

Running his hands slowly up and down Spike's side he grinned at him. "I think we got your clothes dirty. Why don't you get out of 'em, so you can, you know, rinse them out later and set them by the fire to dry or something. It's still raining pretty good. Can't really hunt for the kid in this downpour. And I'm still a little cold and all and you make a decent blanket. Don't want me coming down with pneumonia or something, right?"

"You're not just trying to get me naked, are you?" 

Giving Spike his most charming smile he said, "Absolutely. But for completely impure thoughts. Not an innocent idea among them. Really."

"Right then... keep those impure thoughts," the vampire encouraged, leaning and kissing him one more time before getting up. He started to walk toward the kitchen, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the back of a chair, then pushing the jeans down his arse, bending over and taking them off. He could feel the weight of Dean's gaze the entire time. "Look all you want, yeah?" Smirking, he headed into the kitchen to take care of the washing.

Dean was definitely looking and definitely liking. He had watched Spike pull off his shirt and the way the firelight played across his muscles was damned fine. When Spike stripped out of his jeans he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning in approval. He'd wished for a busty babe to curl up with by the fire--okay to fuck his brains out with by the fire. Spike was no busty babe but Dean had absolutely no complaints with the substitution. "Hey, grab my clothes out of the sink and my jeans, too while you're at it. They're not gonna dry over there." 

When Spike returned, he dropped all of the clothes in front of the fire, spreading them out. Using some tongs that he didn't need, he also placed a few opened cans of food right into the fire since there was no gas to start the stove. His gaze briefly met the other man's, but he ignored the question in those brilliant green eyes and headed upstairs.

A few minutes later, he was back with the curtains from upstairs. Spreading one set on the floor in front of the fire, he nodded at Dean. "Come on, then. And bring a few cushions."

"Anyone ever tell you you'd make a good wife?" Dean grinned at the guy. "Getting my wet clothes, cooking, making the bed up," he teased. "So what's for dinner, honey?" 

"Bangers," Spike answered without missing a beat. "That would be 'sausages' in American." Crooking a finger at the handsome man, he sat down on the make shift bed. "And yeah, I would make a bleeding good wife."

"Mmm, I definitely like banging and sausages." No longer limited by the narrow sofa, he settled down by Spike and ran his hand over the man's cock. Now he could be the aggressor. "Big thick sausages," he murmured as he leaned over Spike and sampled his lips, then kissed his way down to his jaw line where he nipped then licked over it to soothe the bite. He continued working down until he reached the man's neck, still slowly stroking and fondling the man's cock. He bit the man's neck then sucked on it, pulling the flesh into his mouth, only to nip again, giving a soft moan. 

"Right... keep talking about big thick sausages and you'll have me coming before long," Spike answered, giving a low groan as they kissed, and then Dean's mouth tortured the sensitive flesh of his throat. Between that and Dean's calloused hand moving over his thickening cock, Spike writhed and made sounds of pure unadulterated pleasure. Just how the bloody hell had he gotten this lucky? To have camped in an empty cabin, to have this man walk in, and for him to be good looking, warm and willing. There was a twenty percent chance he was only dreaming this, and wouldn't that be a pity? 

"Oh, I'll make sure I have you coming, but not until I'm ready for you to come," Dean said, confidently. Pushing Spike onto his back he slid his knee in between Spike's legs, then kissed and nipped along Spike's collar bone and straight down his sternum. Reaching Spike's nipple he grinned evilly at Spike and latched on with his lips. He gave the man no mercy as he sucked, rolled his tongue around and around it, caught it lightly in his teeth, then sucked hard. His free hand deftly found the other nipple and began rubbing and pinching what soon became a tight nub. His cock-fondling hand drifted to the man's balls and he played with them, rolling them gently in his fingers for a few minutes before drifting deeper, searching out that tight ring of puckered flesh. He pressed his body against Spike's, trapping his cock, slowly sliding back and forth over it, keeping it stimulated. 

As Spike writhed and groaned, a thousand flames licking at his skin everywhere Dean touched him, he had to admit this man's experience could rival that of any vampire he'd ever slept with. His cock pulsated with need. Lifting his hips, he pushed against Dean's warmer body, hand on the man's back and ass, pulling on him to force him down harder against his rock hard erection. "Make a great blanket, pet," he said, dragging one hand up along Dean's spine, then higher, running his fingers through his soft hair, fingers curling around the strands as pleasure washed over him in waves when Dean's finger brushed repeatedly over his hole, leaving him groaning for more.

Damn the man was strong, Dean thought as Spike pulled him closer and practically held him in place. The hand moving along his spine and up his neck had Dean shivering and tingling at the sensation. No, god dammit, he was going to take charge this time. There was no doubt Spike liked Dean's fingers at his hole. Dean put his fingers in his mouth and got them wet, then returned them to Spike's hole. He slowly pushed his middle finger in, going straight for the sweet spot.

"Sodding hell," Spike cursed at the blinding light that hit him behind his eyelids, then groaned as Dean didn't slow down but pushed deeper inside him, unerringly finding his prostate. "Done this before, have you?" he asked in a strained tone, lifting his hips up slightly, inviting Dean to push another finger in him. He didn't need to be prepared, but it didn't make this any less pleasurable. The thought of having this man inside him, of squeezing his muscles around his cock... it was making his cock leak already.

Dean grinned at Spike's reaction. He wasn't quite certain how Spike would react, but he was definitely pleased by the response. 

"No. One-hundred percent virgin. Heard about it on Oprah or something," Dean said. He could tell Spike wanted more and he was happy to oblige. He began finger fucking Spike then slid that second finger in that Spike seemed to be thirsting for while he continued to work on Spike's nipples and pectorals with his mouth, tongue and teeth. Spike definitely seemed to like it when he bit hard enough to leave marks.

"Bloody effing hell!" Spike practically came off the floor, the unexpected sharp pain sending more blood to his already almost too hard cock. "Didn't know how much I like virgins," he said, lifting his head and returning the favor by biting Dean's shoulder. Only, he kept Dean's flesh firmly between his teeth, holding him hostage. His hips moved of their own accord, lifting up to help Dean penetrate him deeper and deeper. Pressure built low in his belly, had him giving of sounds of pleasure, until he couldn't take it anymore. Releasing Dean's flesh, he practically snarled and jackknifed up, pushing Dean's body up with his own. "No more games. Time to fuck," he said, barely waiting until Dean's fingers were out of him before he turned and faced the fireplace on all fours. 

Damn Spike bit hard, was Dean's thought, unable to pull away with Spike's teeth practically buried in his shoulder. With Spike lifting up, letting him in more and more, rubbing their bodies together in the process, Dean felt his cock growing heavy again, and begin to leak. He was startled when Spike was suddenly upright, Dean falling back, unsure what was happening. Spike's words penetrated his lust laden mind, and seeing Spike on all fours, presenting himself to Dean sent such a surge of blood to his cock, Dean groaned.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Spike's gaze locked with those heat-filled greens. Grasping his own cock, he started to stroke, already imagining Dean inside him, willing him to mount him now, to take him.

"I like the way you play," Dean said, the fire crackling in the fireplace nothing compared to the fire in his veins for this man. He wasted no time moving up to Spike. The man wanted it and wanted it now, no preamble, no more stretching, he could see it in the man's eyes.

Aligning his cock with Spike's waiting hole, he nudged in just a little, then grasping Spike's hips snapped his own forward, burying himself in Spike in one fluid motion. He practically shouted in pleasure, suddenly encased in that body, muscles gripping around him. "Oh, God, baby," Dean moaned, running his hands over Spike's chest as he curled himself over Spike, just absorbing the sensations. He wanted to give Spike a minute to adjust to his fullness even though every muscle in him screamed for him to start taking Spike and taking him hard.

Spike thought he'd been ready, but he hadn't been fucked in a long, long time. The sharp pain, the intense burning, the sensation of being stretched to the limit, of being full, all came rushing back as Dean penetrated him fully in one stroke, burying himself to his balls. Spike stretched forward, arching his back like a cat and turning his head to the side, his mouth skimming against Dean's chin. He felt Dean tense against him, felt his stomach muscles rippling against his back, his thighs tightening, dying to unleash all of the power in his body. "Kiss me, but don't move," Spike said, a hint of steel edging his words.

Dean took Spike's mouth, pushing in a little deeper if that were possible. He began to tongue fuck Spike and suddenly he felt Spike clench around him, clenching and releasing in rhythm to Dean's tongue. Dean groaned at the sensations. He started to pull out but Spike clenched down on him almost painfully and Dean couldn't, only making a loud groan in response. Spike wanted to play that game. Two could do that. Since he couldn't pulled out he began to roll his hips putting pressure on Spike's prostate, then easing it as he rolled his cock in Spike's hole. The sensations were coursing through Dean heightening his desperation to fuck the man absolutely senseless, to pull the man up and make him ride his cock as he fucked up into him, then shove him back down to finish off. Those images running through his mind made it harder and harder not to start pumping in and out of that hole.

Spike wasn't sure just when his game had turned into Dean's 'game point.' What he knew was that he was Dean's prisoner in this as much as Dean was his. Their bodies were locked together in a slow torturous dance, one stimulating the other, neither able to go at full run, even though every cell in his body cried out for it. Each time Dean's tongue penetrated his mouth, all Spike could think about was getting fucked just as hard. Blinding heat flooded his body in waves each time Dean's cock pulsed against his prostate. 

Even in his heyday, Angelus hadn't been as imaginative as this human who was slowly driving Spike insane with need. He clenched tighter around Dean's cock, the man's groan sending electric heat through his system. The pressure was building low in his belly, his need rising, overwhelming him. Breaking the kiss suddenly, he dropped his head down, stretching his body forward. "Never been so bloody hot for it. Fuck me," he said, pulling forward a little more so Dean slipped partially out of him. "Hard."

Dean felt Spike ease his clenching, releasing him, and Spike's words drove searing heat through him. He was beginning to get an idea of why the man might be called Spike. The man wanted hard. He could do that. Grabbing Spike at the waist Dean began to pound into him almost mercilessly. He wanted to come, he did, but the thought of fucking up into the man, he just couldn't get that image out of his mind. Practically growling, he shoved deep into Spike, wrapped his arms around the man's chest and pulled him upright. 

"Ride me, baby, ride me," he demanded, fucking up into Spike's ass but needing Spike to help to get the effect he wanted, that he was certain they both wanted.

Spike snarled a warning as he was suddenly pulled upright but when Dean's powerful thrusts didn't stop and what he wanted filtered through the haze of his lust, he cooperated. His knees were on the ground, on either side of Dean's. He pushed up and used the force of gravity to lower himself hard, riding every inch of Dean's hard cock like he was sliding up and down a pole. He bounced harder, matching Dean's thrusts, head thrown back as the force with which he was being fucked had him seeing bright lights behind closed eyelids. Each time Dean pistoned into him, he pushed down, grunts tearing from back of his throat, enjoying being held so tight if he were human, he'd wear bruises at his ribs or chest. They were going at it so hard he had to put one hand down on the ground for support, using it to push up. "Holy... fucking... hell," he said, turning his head on Dean's shoulder. Their mouths crushed together in a jerky, almost painful kiss that couldn't last. "Fuck..."

This was exactly what Dean wanted, fucking up into this fine specimen of a man. He wasn't used to the weight and strength, usually fucking up into women but this put adrenaline and lust into him like he didn't think he had ever felt. To feel Spike slid up and down on his cock, to be buried balls deep time and time again. He was hitting the point of no return, it was now or he'd be coming. He shifted again, pushing Spike back to all fours, putting his hand in the middle of Spike's back and pushing his chest to the floor. 

"Stay there," Dean growled, grabbed Spike at the hips and lifted his ass, and began pounding harder and harder. He grunted with each snap into Spike, his cock pulling out, and sliding all the way back in, hitting Spike's prostate with every stroke.

As Spike's elbows hit the ground and Dean's heavy hand kept him down, showing him the position he wanted, Spike's lust went through the roof. His intense reaction to the manhandling confused him but had him submitting to Dean's will, and he wasn't sorry. How could he be when he was being fucked this hard, pleasured within an inch of his life? The man's thick hard cock was penetrating him to the hilt with each stroke, stimulating that place inside him that sent pleasure shooting through him, making him want to scream for release. 

Instead of allowing Dean to continue to push him forward every time he fucked into him, Spike started to push back, so there was no give, no forward motion of both bodies. He clenched his inner muscles around Dean's cock, forcing Dean to push harder, giving him more friction, desperately wanting to push him over the edge _now_.

"Fuck!" Dean gasped, chasing his release harder and harder, amazed the man was holding his own. A sudden blinding light seemed to explode inside him, his balls drew up unbelievably tight and he gave a final hard thrust into Spike feeling his seed fill his lover, spilling out as he began to pump more, but finally slowing down as the last of his cum was spent. "Oh my fucking God," Dean gasped, curling his body over the man his cock still rested inside of.

As he took Dean's last thrusts, Spike squeezed his own cock, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Dean's hot cum filling him. It was all it took for him to come, groaning in pleasure and pain as his climax ripped through him with unexpected violence. He was wet with his cum on the front of his body, and Dean's leaking down the back of his thighs. He should be satisfied, but he clenched around Dean's softening cock, milking him for everything he had, and then finally resting his head on one arm, with Dean still on top of him.

"Bloody amazing, and I'm not saying that lightly," Spike said, his voice still husky. "Gave me a work out I wasn't expecting." And a few more things he hadn't been expecting, but he'd liked... definitely liked it, a lot. 

Dean groaned softly as Spike finished him and prayed the man had no intention of trying to get him hard all over again. He was drenched in sweat, still gasping for air, and he knew his muscles were going to be sore. He hadn't worked that hard fucking someone in a long time. Hell, maybe never.

Staying inside Spike he bit Spike's shoulders, sucking on it, then licked over the bite, not fighting it as Spike got back on all fours. He slowly worked his mouth up further and further until he reached Spikes neck where he bit and sucked more. Whispering in Spike's ear he said, "You're the best fuck I think I've ever had and _I'm_ not saying that lightly." He nipped down Spike's jaw and when Spike turned his head Dean captured his mouth starting gently, then letting some heat come into it as he pushed his tongue inside that hot wet space. If he hadn't just come so fucking hard, hadn't just fucked so hard, he would be rocking his hips, getting himself hard while still inside Spike, and taking the man all over again.

Breaking their kiss Dean finally pulled out of Spike with a groan. "Lay down, on your back," he told Spike, nudging him with a light hand. When Spike complied, Dean immediately moved between Spike's legs and ran his tongue in one long stroke up Spike's body, licking up Spike's cum. He grinned down and the man beneath him. "Always good to follow up with dessert. And you're fucking delicious."

Spike had been sure Dean would collapse and sleep. Instead, the man surprised him again, this time with his gentleness as he cleaned him up in ways that were sure to have Spike's cock twitching very soon. Watching Dean through half lidded eyes, he wished this moment would last forever and knew he'd never forget it. The sex had been mind blowing, but this... he couldn't remember anyone ever having done this for him, not after their own release at least. Reaching down, he ran his fingers through Dean's hair, moaning softly as Dean's tongue laved at his thigh and cock. "Glad you've got a sweet tooth, yeah?" He sucked in an unneeded breath as blood started to rush to his groin. 

Dean was fucked out and exhausted, but he had always liked to give the one he'd fucked, who had given him so much pleasure, a little extra attention before collapsing in sleep. Or before slipping out the door, getting back to his own motel room, and collapsing into a sex-induced sleep. 

"C'mere, kiss me," Spike said, his other hand reaching down to grab Dean's arm and slowly dragging him up his body, then wrapping his arms around him, one hand sliding over his ass, his middle finger unconsciously rubbing up and down Dean's crack, not quite reaching his hole. Dean's mouth landed messily over his, and Spike gave him a long, slow kiss. He'd meant to stop there, to allow Dean to rest, but the part of him that had allowed Dean to dominate him needed to return the favor. And he did, by holding Dean in place with his arms, pressing his legs and knees tightly around Dean's legs, and tongue fucking him with the same intensity as he been fucked, stabbing his tongue in and out of the wet heat of Dean's mouth, taking him as surely as he'd been taken.

When Spike wanted a kiss he let Spike pull him up. Damn damn damn, this guy could fucking kiss. If he got in a little sleep, he thought he could definitely get in a couple more rounds of mind-blowing sex before morning. And there were still the sausages heating in the fire. He ought to remind Spike to pull them out before they fell asleep. He'd be starved when he woke up. He liked the gentle kiss Spike gave him and felt Spike's finger drift dangerously near his hole. He groaned a little softly. Spike didn't honestly expect him to be able to come a third time did he?

Dean wasn't prepared for the way the man suddenly gripped him and held him firmly in place and Spike began doing things to his mouth that was making his exhausted and worn out cock struggle to rise to the occasion. There was no fighting or denying that mouth, the insistence of Spike's tongue, and the promise of what Spike wanted to do to him. Thoughts of this tongue fucking happening at his hole...he didn't bottom often, he didn't like not being in control. It took a helluva lot to convince him to bottom, but right now, just as on the couch, he felt like he was at Spike's mercy and was groaning back into Spike's mouth, frustrated Spike held him so tightly he could hardly move. Spike's hold was iron. He struggled against it briefly, but there was no budging the man and he reluctantly submitted to Spike's control.

Finally, _finally_ Spike let him come up for air for longer than just a breath or two. "Dude, are you part rabbit? Jesus. How many times can you have sex back to back?" He looked down into the man's eyes. Huh. He never would have said a guy had gorgeous blues, but yeah. They were. His lips were red and swollen, looked pretty fucked out and, well crap, he could just stare at the man for hours.

"Lemme go," Dean told him, kissing him lightly on the lips and rolling off him when Spike finally relented. "Get the bangers, smangers, whatever the hell they are out of the fire so they don't burn," he mumbled, his eyes already half closed. "Then come back to bed." At this point Dean was struggling to stay awake and not succeeding very well.

Spike smirked. He was part something but definitely _not_ a bleeding rabbit, and that part of him received great satisfaction seeing Dean looking so fucked out and exhausted. That part of him took credit for Dean's swollen full lips, his lust blown and unfocused pupils, and the warm flush that covered his body. "Thought you were starving." His smirk stayed firmly in place when Dean didn't answer, and all Spike could hear was his steady breathing.

* * *

It was still night and Spike had been very comfortable on the floor in front of the fire, laying on his side with his body curled around Dean's. But the rain had stopped, and the vampire had to return to his search for Xander's son while it was dark. He'd reluctantly peeled his body away from Dean's and dressed quietly in the dark. 

For a long moment, he watched Dean's face, studying it in the golden glow of the flickering fire. There were many attractive people in the world, but in his hundred years, there were only few that Spike would describe as beautiful. Dean was that, from his chiseled features to his surprisingly plump lips that softened and balanced his ruggedly male looks. He was built and fit, a man who used every muscle in his body or exercised often. Maybe when all this was over, Spike would find the ranger again.

As he walked out into the night, Spike knew there was no _maybe_ about it. He would find Dean and see if the man was interested in more than a night of sex between strangers. He didn't think so, and maybe a part of him hoped it was nothing more because that could get complicated with him being a vampire. Still, he wondered whether in the morning Dean would remember his comment about being a good wife. He'd rekindled the fire, folded Dean's dried clothes, and rearranged the curtains to cover him. His breakfast was sitting in a tin next to the fire with tongs, so that all Dean had to do was put it in the fire for a short time to reheat it. Smiling at the imagined comment from Dean, he raised his head and started to search for any out of place scent, or Sean's scent as he took off into the night.

* * *   
Immediately Dean reached for his gun under the pillow...but there wasn't one. Pillow or gun. He scanned the room. Fireplace with a fire going, curtains over him, his stomach rumbling and... no Spike.

"Spike?" Dean called out, getting to his feet and listening. Nothing. He saw the tin with the food and moved it into the fire. He pulled on his undershorts and pants. "Hey Spike!" he called again. Still no answer. Dean grabbed his gun from his coat and tread softly upstairs in his bare feet. No Spike. He gave the room a quick once over but didn't find anything.  
Rubbing the back of his head, he scowled. Yeah the rain had stopped but it was dark. The fire had burned down a bit. Maybe Spike stepped out for a piss. He'd give the guy a minute because he didn't want to step out into the dark yelling for the guy. Quickly he finished dressing, grateful his clothes had dried out pretty thoroughly and taking note that Spike had _folded_ them for God's sake. Yeah, the man would make a great wife and for just a moment he had an image of him walking in a front door, calling out "Honey, I'm home" like they always did on those TV shows and Spike was in the kitchen in tight jeans and no shirt, baking him an apple pie. He shook that ridiculous image away with a soft laugh. Though he did like the idea of a shirtless Spike in tight jeans. Glancing at his watch he saw it was almost midnight. Since Spike wasn't here, he quickly opened up his bag of weapons and scanned over them. Yeah, wet, but okay. Although he didn't have to, he would prefer to change out the bullets in his magazine, or at least dry them off. His father had taught him well and he could break down clean and reassemble everything in his pack in under fifteen minutes if he had to.

Goblins. Beheading killed them, and fire would do them some serious damage but not kill them. They didn't like fire and bright lights. Bullets would just piss them off.

Where the hell was Spike?

Dean checked his machete and changed out the flare gun charge with a fresh one from the water tight pack the spare rounds were packaged in. It was probably okay, but no sense taking chances. His high-beam flashlight with enough candle power to blind those motherfuckers for a few moments was working fine. Since Spike still hadn't returned, Dean used it for more light as he quickly broke down his 9-mm, popped the bullets from their magazine and did a thorough wipe down. Satisfied, he just as quickly reassembled it and dried the bullets before reloading them. With everything dry, there shouldn't be a misfire or jam, hell there shouldn't be if it was still wet, but he would keep in mind the gun might not be at a hundred percent.

Dean strode over to the fire and pulled out the can. Using his pocketknife, he stabbed one of the sausages out of the can. Yep, Spike would definitely make a good wife. A perfect wife if he could breakdown and clean weapons, kill supernatural monsters, and cook burgers and bake apple pie. 

Okay, still no Spike. He stepped outside and found Spike's boot prints leading away from the cabin. What the fuck? Why would the guy be out and about after dark? That's when predators of the non-supernatural type were about as readily as the supernatural type. The guy was strong, but Dean hadn't seen any weapons on him. Was he a fucking idiot? Dean hesitated. He couldn't just let Spike go off into the night by himself. Maybe Spike had a pack Dean hadn't seen. Still...

"Aw, dammit Spike," Dean muttered. He went back inside and dialed up Sam as he quickly finished off the sausages. "Sam, where do you think the goblin is?"

Sam was still awake studying information and maps when the phone rang, surprising him. What was Dean doing calling him at midnight? "What? No way Dean, you're not going out without back up. What if it's a nest?"

"I won't go up against 'em without you, okay? Look there was guy taking shelter from the rain like I was, a friend of the father's and a friend of the missing kid. I fell asleep and now he's gone. I don't think the guy has any weapons or anything. I need to find the fool and get him to safety. So where's the goblin danger zone so I know if he's walking into more trouble than he realizes."

Sam hesitated, then gave Dean the coordinates of the areas he thought the goblin might be in. "I'll be up there first thing in the morning," Sam told him. "Call me when you find him."

"Yeah." Dean closed the phone and quickly shouldered his pack, keeping his machete, in one hand, flare gun in his coat pocket, and gun in his back holster. He headed out, grateful for the moon's light as he tracked Spike down the muddy trails.


	2. Chapter 2

The stench was getting stronger now. Spike had identified it and was single-mindedly tracking it. The rains had washed a lot of the scent away, mostly in the areas where there had been flash flooding. It just meant Spike was slower in some areas, but he was certain he would find the goblin and Sean. Question was whether he'd bring Xander his son back alive. The goblin's carcass would mean nothing if the boy was already gone.

More determined than ever, Spike pushed back some foliage, sniffing the air, then side-stepping it and going in a different direction. He stepped over large roots and scented blood. Bending down, a frown marred his forehead as he looked for the source and started to lift up some fallen branches.

Sensing a presence, Spike suddenly stilled suddenly. "Don't they teach rangers to stay in safe cabins until daylight?" he asked, then, still squatting, turned around. "You could lose your way, freeze or drown." Or be eaten by goblins, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. 

Dean had finally caught up with Spike but then he only had to track the man and the muddy ground made that easier even if it was dark. When Spike got off the path it had grown much more difficult but he was just relieved to find the man since the man was smack in the middle of where the goblin nest was probably located.

"I like the night," Dean said softly, surprised Spike had heard him approach and even more so that he knew it was him. "Civilians are the ones who shouldn't be tromping about in the dark with a maniac on the loose. I know you're trying to help, I know you're worried about your friend, but you can't help if you get yourself hurt or attacked by something out here. Lot of dangerous creatures out in the night. C'mon, let me get you back to the cabin where it's safe." He really didn't want to see the man come face to face with the supernatural. He liked the guy and the supernatural just tended to freak the general populace. Though he supposed the machete he was holding probably wasn't comforting to Spike.

"Maniac." Spike gave the weapon in Dean's hand a pointed look but didn't really consider him a source of danger. "Did you follow me to turn me into your personal love slave?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice. "Tell you what, I'll come back in the morning and we can play that game. But I've got a boy to find." Turning, he leaned further in and searched under the brush and branches he'd been inspecting. His fingers closed around something soft. It was hooked on some branches and it took some tugging before he was able to pull it free and stood up. "His jumper," Spike said, looking at the torn jacket. From the scent, he knew it was Sean's, and there was a bit of blood on it. The playful light was instantly gone from his eyes. "Go to the cabin, Dean."

"No way in hell. I'm here to find the kid too. Look, Spike, what's got the kid likes the night. It doesn't like the day. Let's at least wait until dawn. It's not gonna kill the kid, that's not why it took him. But in the dark, its got the advantage."

"Know what's got the kid, do you?" Spike really looked at Dean, his stance, the weapon in his hand, his being in the area, and his probable knowledge. "You said 'what' not 'who'," he added, in case Dean didn't pick up on the fact they were both on the same page. "The boy can't wait, he's got asthma. Cold weather, anything can set him off. I know what I'm doing, and 'what' I'm dealing with here. No need to worry about me, yeah?" Tilting his head to the side, he added, "and I'm not easy to kill." 

This was the first he heard of asthma. Might have been fucking nice if the mother had mentioned that damned fact. Dean re-valuated Spike just as Spike did him. The man was obviously a good tracker but he had no pack, no apparent weapons. "You're a hunter, then?" Dean ventured. "So how are you gonna take it or _them_ down? You got some magic hoodoo words to keep them at bay? 'Cause I sure would like to know them. Beheading is the only way I know of to take down goblins. And they're mean bastards."

He waited to see if Spike started laughing at him when he said 'goblins.' If he did, then he wasn't a hunter and would probably be a liability once they got to the nest. It looked like the guy could get them to the nest, though. And if Spike didn't laugh, then...then maybe he had some back-up. Still, Sam was going to kill him for going in with an unknown for back-up, if the goblin didn't kill him first.

'Hunter.' That was bloody better than a 'Scoob,' as the Buffy crew liked to call themselves, sometimes including him in the description. "Hunter, yeah. I've got weapons," he tugged the lapels of his trench coat slightly open, implying they were on him. "I'll have to make sure the nasty bugger doesn't bleed on me, didn't bring a change of clothes." He didn't give Dean a chance to argue and instinctively knew that an order to go home would be useless. So long as they found Sean while it was still night, Dean wouldn't find out what he was and the company might not be a bad thing. "You coming?" 

Dean gave a sharp nod but really wished he knew what Spike was packing. His mind immediately flashed to exactly what Spike was packing under those pants and cursed himself. Mind on the job, dammit. He couldn't afford distractions. Once they got Sean and the goblin was dead, they could get the kid back home and then he could see if Spike might be interested in another go round. Until then, he had to be Dean the kick-ass hunter. 

"You've got the lead," Dean said, waving his machete toward the direction Spike was headed. Although he was used to taking point, there was no doubt Spike was the better tracker and he'd be foolish not to use that skill.

"Want to keep my arse safe, do you?" Smirking, Spike turned around and stepped over the brush, heading for higher ground. As he trudged on, Spike made a show of looking for visual signs of the path taken by the goblin. He was mostly following their scent but it wouldn't do to let that on to the hunter. He had a feeling that if Dean found out he was a vampire, that ready smile would disappear and the heat in those eyes would turn ice cold. That was something he'd rather not see.

"I got no complaints on the view," Dean commented dryly, even if he couldn't see Spike's ass because of the man's long leather coat.

As they trudged on mostly in silence, Spike mentally cursed. The hours were passing and he'd need to secure shelter at dawn. He could make some sort of cover for himself here in the forest, but that would take an explanation. So would running from Dean and he didn't want to leave the man alone. 

More determined than ever, Spike picked up speed. "This thing doesn't want to be found. It's gone in circles, like it knew it would be followed," he said. He'd almost lost the scent twice, but he'd played that trick on his own pursuers in the past, so he had an advantage.

More and more birds started to chirp, drowning out the sounds of frogs. Spike looked up at the sky, then took a few steps and came to a sudden stop, putting his arm out to stop Dean from passing him. He could hear someone sniffling and it bloody well wasn't the goblin. "Up there," he said, pointing to the hill, trying to see signs of the boy and the goblin... to pinpoint their location. 

Dean looked toward where Spike pointed. The wind shifted a bit and Dean damned near gagged. Goblin stench. His eyes scanned the hillside. Something wasn't right. He looked around. Plenty of brush and fallen branches and logs but one section had brush that looked like the leaves were wilting though it was hard to tell in the dark with the moon giving them only dim lighting. The wind was coming from that direction though.

"There," he said, lightly tapping Spike's arm and indicating the brush. "Fresh branches. And the reek has to be the goblin." He looked at Spike. "You've been tracking it. Can you tell if we've got one or a nest of them?"

"Only one brought the boy in, I haven't seen signs of more." The scent of the one had been strong all the way to here, but this area had a stronger smell built up over time and was overpowering. Cracking his neck to the side, he looked at Dean's machete. "Time to slice and dice."

In unison, they closed in on the the area where the branches were covering some sort of shelter. The child's crying grew louder. They exchanged looks and started to run. Spike didn't hear any other sounds but that didn't mean the goblin wasn't in there with Sean. Grabbing the branches, he pulled them out of the way and tossed them aside, uncovering the entrance to a cave. "Smells worse than a bleeding sewer," he whispered. In the dark, in the depths of the cave, he could see the boy huddled against a wall, alone. 

"I'll get him," Spike said as he walked in, making a beeline for Sean. Dean was on his heels and prepared with a flashlight. The cave was quite wide, room for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. Trash and slime lined the ground and might explain why the smell was so much worse here. 

"Sean, it's Spike," the vampire said, reaching him. "Come to get... stay there, don't move!" He snapped suddenly. Turning to Dean, he said, "they're coming, must be another entrance. Two, maybe three." He could hear their gutteral sounds, and they were too close for them to run.

"Cover your eyes," Dean ordered the child and pulled out the flare gun. He shone the flashlight down the corridor and could make out the short, fat, green, hairy creatures with huge eyes and a set of teeth on each of them that rivaled about anything he had come across. Not to mention the long claws. The flashlight startled the creatures. Dean fired the flare gun at the center one and hit it square in the chest, a brilliant flash lighting up the cave briefly as the creature howled its pain. Dean took a couple steps towards them, protecting Spike and Sean. 

"Get the kid out," he told Spike, then headed forward, his machete out, the fading light from the flare gun letting him mark his next target. He swung at the one on the right but the damned thing was fast and Dean only nailed its shoulder, though he buried the blade deep. He cursed and ripped the blade free, trying to keep his balance on the slippery, slimey floor. He swung again and hit his mark, but the one he'd flare gunned pounced him full on and knocked him onto his back, raking its claws over Dean's chest. Cursing Dean struggled to get the damned thing off of him, well aware the third and remaining goblin was headed straight for Spike and the kid and there wasn't a damned thing he could do.

Why was he cursed to live his life surrounded by humans who wanted to play hero? "Sean, close your ears too," Spike ordered, "I'll have you with your mum and dad soon, it's a promise, yeah?" Spike took off into the tunnel following Dean's footsteps. A goblin was sluggishly making it way toward him, but what really got the vampire's attention was the scent of blood. Dean's. 

Snarling, he shifted into game face and plowed into the goblin, slamming it against the wall. It came at him with its sharp claws. Moving with preternatural speed, he avoided each swipe, grabbing the claws of one of its hands and breaking them off. The goblin gave an inhuman shout that reverberated against the walls. "Didn't like that? I think you'll like this less," Spike warned, grabbing it around its massive shoulders from behind and using his free hand to shove its face to one side until a sickening cracking sound told him he'd broken its neck. It wasn't dead, but it was out of commission for now.

Dropping the goblin to the ground, Spike ran to Dean who was shoving and kicking at a goblin that was trying to claw his face off. As Dean kicked the thing in the center of its body, pushing it half way off, Spike grabbed it and whipped it around. Facing away from Dean, he fought the goblin, his fists connecting with its face and body multiple times. When the goblin attacked, he avoided each of its sluggish moves, then slammed his booted foot into the center of its thick body, sending it flying. Shifting back from his game face, he turned to Dean who was already trying to rush past him. "You want to do the honors, I don't like blood." Smirking, he followed the hunter, and when they reached the downed goblin, he put his foot on its chest and held it in place. 

With a grimace of pain, Dean swung the blade and hacked the creature's head off. He brought one arm over his shredded shirt and flesh, a pained expression briefly crossing his face. Son of a bitch those were probably going to need stitches. "The other one?" Dean asked and at Spike's gesture he walked back toward the creature in the dark cave where the only light was from Dean's dropped flashlight. Dean picked up the flashlight along the way.

Looking down at the creature he growled, "for all the kids you bastards stole and ultimately killed." Swinging the machete he took great pleasure severing the creature's head from its body. He wiped the black blood on the machete off on the goblin's arm. It wasn't perfect, but at least it wasn't dripping the dark ichor now.

"Get the kid," Dean said, his voice strained. He looked down at his blood coated chest and worried the claws had gone deep. He was damned lucky the thing hadn't eviscerated him. The wounds would quickly get infected if they didn't get cleaned out, and though he didn't figure he would bleed to death, he would lose a good bit more blood than was healthy if he didn't get bandaged up. At least he didn't notice his aching leg from his encounter with the tree when he was swimming anymore. 

There was a first aid kit in his pack that he'd dropped by the kid, one that was water tight so it shouldn't have taken any damage from his swim. He didn't know what sort of condition the kid might be in so he'd stocked it up a bit. Unfortunately he knew he wasn't going to just be able to pour alcohol over these wounds. He was going to have to fucking clean them out and probably should stitch them closed. Fuck. It was going to hurt like a bitch. Spike might not like blood, but Dean was going to need help as much as he hated to admit it. Odds were good, better than he wanted to admit, he might pass out from the pain while in the middle of cleaning out the wounds or trying to stitch himself up. He really hoped it looked worse than it was but there was too much blood to tell at the moment. He just knew it hurt like a bitch.

He made his way slowly back to the kid. "I got lock picks if you need them," Dean said. "Might be a good idea to get me and the kid bandaged up before heading down the mountain."

"You all right, mate?" Spike caught up and put a hand on Dean's back, leaning in to look at him. The front of Dean's shredded shirts were completely stained with blood. They entered the part of the cave Sean was in and he helped Dean to one side of the cave, glancing to where the morning light was coming in from the entrance. "Get your jacket off, I'll be back," he said.

Going to Sean, Spike dropped down next to him. Gripping the chain and padlock, he pulled them apart. "Rusty," he said for Dean's benefit, reaching out the same moment that Sean raised his arms to be helped up.

Smiling Spike stood up with him. "Always knew you were a brave boy. Show Dean how you do your breathing," he said, fishing the boy's medication out of his pocket.

"I... I cried."

"Not crying now, and you haven't turned into a shivering leaf... mean's you're brave."

Sean looked at his own body, then back at Spike. "You're silly."

"Right," Spike sighed and placed the inhaler over Sean's mouth. 

The boy breathed in the medication, then pushed it away. "I wanna go home."

"Home, right. Let's fix up Dean first, yeah?"

Sean nodded and let Spike put him down. 

"Bandages..." Spike looked toward the bag Dean had brought, and when the other man nodded, before Spike got to it, Sean brought it over to Dean's side.

"I'm not a fraidy cat," Sean announced, pulling the bandages out. "There's no yellow stuff in here to make it better."

Dean had to admit, the kid impressed him. Most anybody held by goblins a handful of days, held in this stench and chained up, would be whimpering and bawling and scared out of his mind if he had any mind left. It was obvious the kid loved Spike though, the way he wanted Spike to pick him up and be proud of him and that probably made all the difference in the world. The kid wasn't even flinching at the fact Dean's chest was red with blood.

"No you aren't," Dean agreed. "You're one brave kid. Your parents are gonna be real proud of you." He furrowed his brow at the kid's comment about yellow stuff as the kid peered into the first aid kit. Oh. Iodine. "On the right, under the four by fours, those 4 inch square bandages, but you need to wash your hands up 'fore you go digging in there. Why don't you wash your hands with that soap there, then there's a couple of protein bars and a bottle of gatorade and water in my pack for you. Uncle Spike," he smirked, "can look after me." The kid didn't need to see his torn up chest. Dean's eyes went up to Spike. "We need to get this kid and ourselves out of this stench. Get the kid cleaned up, me patched up, and you can take the kid down the mountain to his parents. My brother'll be up mid-morning to help me out. 

Sean had cleaned his hands on his clothes and was tearing open a protein bar, when he looked up. "We can't go till night, unless daddy comes gets me. Do you have _candy_ bars?"

Spike quickly got down to look in the pack. "No, none of those. But there'll be plenty for you later. Here, put your hands out." Pouring some of the water over first one hand, then the other, Spike washed Sean's hands, then used a rag that he wet to get his mouth and face clean. "Drink," he ordered, then went back to Dean.

"Does your phone have reception? Might want to call Xander and your brother, tell them where we are. At least they'll know they can stop worrying." And more importantly, Spike thought Xander would know to get his arse up here since it was daylight outside. "Let's see what we have." 

Although Dean had shrugged out of his jacket and overshirt, his tee shirt was stuck to some parts of his chest. "Going to have to cut it off," Spike said, getting the dagger he'd seen in Dean's pack. As he palmed Dean's tee shirt up, revealing his abs, his gaze met Dean's. Last night was fresh in Spike's mind, and the intoxicating scent of this man's blood wasn't helping. 

Even with the pain, Dean managed a smirk at seeing his look. "Get your mind out of the gutter. Minors present and all that. And this is going to put the kabosh on any extra-curricular activities for a few days at least, depending on how bad it is. Though we can probably get creative." He gave Spike a good once over. "Don't think I've ever had such a pretty nurse," he teased. "Wife and nurse. How lucky can a guy get. Wait, I know, damned lucky if things work out the way I want them to," he said with a leer. Then Dean let his head fall back against the cave wall and closed his eyes. God it stank to high heaven in here. "Phone's in my coat," Dean told him, his voice a little strained. "Don't know if we have reception. Definitely not in this cave, but maybe outside of it. Sam, that's my brother, is on speed dial one."

"Right." Step out of the cave and into the direct sunlight... only if he wanted to be a fire hazard. He could go though the tunnels, where they'd taken care of the goblins, and see if that exit had any shade on the outside, but somehow, Spike doubted it. 

Carefully using the knife to cut the stretchy material of Dean's shirt, Spike wouldn't allow himself to enjoy the thrill from Dean's promise of extra-curricular activities. Only the night would tell and everything could change between now and then. When he got to the neckline, he reversed the direction of the knife, cut the last bit and slowly peeled the tee shirt off Dean's chest. "Still with the living?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said thickly. "It just burns like a mother-fu--it burn's bad," Dean said, cutting off his foul language with the kid not far away. He looked down at his bloodied chest, shocked to see his chest wasn't hamburger. It felt like it was. Instead of ragged flesh, the clawing looked like shallow incisions from a sharp knife. Even through the coating of blood he could see green and black slime in those incisions. That had to be the source of the burning and why it hurt so fucking bad. "Doesn't that just look awesome," Dean groaned. "You know if they're venomous? I know one entry in my Dad's journal said they might be able to temporarily paralyze their prey, keep them quiet while they took off with 'em, but if that was the case, I'd be out by now...unless it's geared for a kid," Dean mused. "Sean, they scratch you up? Did it make you not be able to move? Did it burn?" Dean asked, not giving Spike a chance to answer his initial question. 

Sean lifted his face, eyes a little wide. He swallowed and looked at Spike, then back at Dean. "I was shouting for my daddy and Buffy and Aunt Willow and Spike... oh, and my mommy," he added, feeling a little guilty. He'd called for her once he was here, but she didn't fight bad things so he'd called to the others. "And then I was fighting and fighting, and something did scratch me," he nodded, "and I got away, but I fell and my jacket got caught."

Spike looked over. "You're all right now, yeah?"

Nodding, Sean continued. "And then..." he made a face. "It puked on me, right here." He pulled his shirt up to show them where he'd been scratched. "And then I was here."

"I'm tossing your arse straight into a tub, if your mum doesn't," Spike said, trying not to smile at the look of disgust that was still on Sean's face, and finding it reflected almost exactly on Dean's. He shook his head. "I think you're safe." He finished cleaning the wounds and applied some antibiotic cream instead of the iodine. Next he covered the wounds with some bandages and taped them in place, his thumbs skimming lightly over Dean's nipples when he was done. "Cold?" he asked, pointedly, tongue pressing behind his teeth as he smiled.

Even with the pain, his nipples perked up a bit at the attention. At least the burning had stopped for the most part. "Dammit Spike," he growled, glowering at the man. "And yeah I am cold, just for the damned record. My coat's half soaked in slime. Your coat, however, isn't. Would sure make a nice blanket over my chest." Damn there was nothing better than sex after a hunt but that would have to wait. Maybe tonight, if his chest was doing better he and Spike could hook up. Or he and Sam could stay in the area until his chest was well enough, if Spike was willing to hang. One look at the man watching him told Dean that would probably be a great big 'hell yes' if he asked Spike. He shifted a little as he felt more than just his nipples perking up at the thoughts running through his head. First order of business though was to get to the cabin then get the kid down the mountain.

Spike laughed at Dean's response, and started to take his coat off. "Your problem is you need to relax, unwind, some... stress _release_ " he added, licking his lips as he covered Dean up with his coat. 

"I'm all for that," Dean said, giving Spike a heated look. "But it's gotta wait."

Pulling away, Spike went and got Dean's phone and tried it. "No bloody signal." He walked toward the entrance, and tried again, then shook his head. "Sean, you know your father's number?" At the boys nod, he held the phone to him. Give him a try, don't wander," he said giving him a pointed look and standing just inside the entrance.

"Okay." The boy took the phone and stared at the screen. "It's not like my daddy's."

Spike took it back and dialed the number. "Push here, when you're outside." 

Dean gave Spike a curious look. If it were him, he'd be glad to step out of the stench for awhile. In fact, in a few minutes he thought he would be ready to get his feet under him and get the hell out of here. Course he was sitting in the slime so until he got his clothes washed up he was going to be smelling like shit anyhow. Probably for days. His pack was probably all slimed up too. Damn. This sucked.

He listened to Sean talking excitedly to his Dad, telling him how Spike and another guy named Dean rescued him and killed the goblins and Dean was hurt and they were still at the cave. Dean called out to the kid, "Tell him we're moving to cabin 29, around K-17 on the park map." Dean looked at Spike. "C'mon, I'm okay. Grab my shit and let's get a move on," he said pushing himself to his feet. The burning was getting less and less and already his chest felt a lot less like ragged raw meat. Obviously the antibiotic cream was doing its job.

"They can come up here." Seeing the look of disagreement from Dean, he knew it made more sense to meet at a location that was known to everyone than to try to describe this one. "Right, cabin 29," he said, trying to appear casual, though every muscle in his body was tense. Assessing the hunter, he knew the man could make it back without assistance. "Leave your bag here, take the boy. I'll meet you there."

Sean came in, smiling brightly and excitedly telling them he'd spoken to both mommy and daddy.

Spike ruffled his brown hair. "Right, now you're going to take Dean to the cabin. Take good care of him, yeah? He's always tripping, can barely see. And he's afraid of the birds," he nodded gravely.

For an instant, Sean looked at Dean, then understanding dawned. "That's silly. He can too see well, but I'll protect him from the birds."

"I know you will. Off with you. Both of you." This time Spike's gaze locked with jade eyes, hoping to hell there wasn't going to be a fight. 

Dean gave Spike a very plain 'What the Fuck' look. "Spike, come on. The bodies don't need burned, they're dead. There's no reason for you stay here. There's food and supplies at the cabin. And...I'm not really sure where the hell we are at the moment. Not until we get out and find a trail." Dean grew concerned. "Did one of them hurt you? What aren't you telling me? Why aren't you coming?"

"Not hurt, no, got something to d--"

"Spike can't come. Vampires can't go out in the sun, don't you know anything?" Sean asked. 

Spike rubbed the back of his neck. "Sean, wait right outside. Take your water." He didn't smile, even when Sean did, as he went out again, but stayed within a few feet of the entrance.

The silence stretched until Spike couldn't take it. "Well, hunter? Will you go now?" He didn't ask the questions that were swimming in his mind. Would there be a next time? Was Dean so angry he couldn't see past that pretty nose... that nothing was really changed? No, he wasn't ready to hear the answers to those question.

Dean stared at Spike. A vampire? Spike was a vampire? But...but vamps could go out in the sun. All that Hollywood crap was just that, crap. That's what his dad had said, what he'd seen with his own eyes unless...maybe there was more than one type of vampire. If Spike was more demon than anything else, then maybe...maybe Hollywood wasn't so far off. Dean scowled and glanced out at the sunlit area before the cave, where the kid waited. The kid knew Spike was a vampire and trusted Spike one hundred percent.

Lenore, the vampire and her nest that Dean had met, they didn't feed on humans. That didn't mean Spike didn't though. But hell, Spike could have bit him a hundred times over, turned him with just a few drops of blood. No, wait, it didn't work that way with Hollywood vamps. Took a lot of blood for them to turn someone.

His chest had been covered in blood but Spike hadn't...hadn't done anything. He'd tended Dean, bandaged him.

Dean had fucked a demon. A vampire. Even knowing Spike was a _thing_ , something he hunted, seeing Spike standing there in silence, no longer looking at him was like a knife in his gut. No...no he just couldn't deal with this right now. He handed Spike his coat back, picked up his bag, shouldering it, and walked out into the light. He couldn't even bring himself to thank Spike for patching him up. He couldn't bring himself to say anything. "C'mon Sean. Let's get you to the cabin. There's food there and we can wait on your dad and my brother."

He headed south, pretty certain that was the direction they needed to go. He couldn't even find it in him to look back at Spike. A vampire. A fucking vampire...

Spike looked down at the coat Dean had practically thrown into his hands, and then out after them for a while, until they disappeared behind a line of trees. Guess he had his answer. Silence qualified as one.

He was calm. He thought he was, until he turned suddenly and punched his fist into stone wall, biting his lip at the pain that instantly shot from his knuckles down his arm. 

He'd wanted ... yeah, he'd admit it to himself, he'd wanted more time with the hunter. Wanted to know who he was and what he really was like. Whether this feeling that they could bond on a deeper level than sex was even real. The chemistry was there, but there was more. Spike liked the man's sense of humor. His strength and bravery. Even his line of business... a hunter, just like the rest of his friends from this decade. 

Right, his own hunter friends didn't hate everything that wasn't human. This man though... well, he hadn't even looked at him again once he understood the truth. "Sodding hell..." Spike leaned his forehead against the stone wall. "I didn't know you were a bloody hunter." But if he had known... would that have changed a thing? Recalling how they'd practically mauled each other, he rolled his forehead against the cool stone, shaking his head 'no.'

* * *

It didn't take Dean long to find a trail and figure out where he was. Guiding the young boy down several paths, Dean found the cabin he and Spike had slept in...had sex in... Sean was quiet along the way, which surprised Dean. Most kids didn't shut up. But Dean was a stranger and the kid probably realized Dean hadn't known Spike was a vampire.

Opening the door, Dean nudged Sean inside. "Go clean up. I'll get the fire restarted." 

They both stank of goblin and while he was sort of getting used to the reek, he wanted it gone as fast as possible. He needed to call Sam too. It was early enough he could probably get Sam to bring him up some clean clothes. Dean set his pack on the counter, grabbed a can of soup out of the cupboard, stripped off its label, punched a couple holes in the lid with his pocketknife, then carried it over to the fire. Stirring up the ashes and putting more wood and newpaper on the couple hot embers he found, the fire quickly blazed back to life. 

He stared at it a minute, remembering how the fire had burned while he and Spike had been in front of it, remembering the fire that had burned in his veins. Grinding his teeth at the thought, he used the tongs to set the soup can in the fire to heat up. He turned and nearly tripped over the cushions and drapes on the floor, where he and Spike had made love. He blinked. Sex. They'd had sex. He'd fucking had sex with a vampire. 

Shaking his head as if he could deny it, he picked up one of the drapes and brought it over to Sean holding it out before him. "Take off your clothes and wrap up in this, then go sit by the fire and I'll get your clothes rinsed out. It'll be a couple hours before your dad gets here probably and maybe we can get your clothes all dried out by then. They won't smell great, but it'll be better than now. Be sure to wash those scratches out good. I'll bring over the first aid kit and we can get iodine and bandaids and cra--stuff on 'em for you." He kept his had turned away from the kid so the kid wouldn't be embarrassed. He finally couldn't stop the question he'd been wanting to ask since they left the cave. "You've known Spike long?"

Sean looked around and didn't know where he was supposed to wash up. Besides, his mommy washed him, and she would when she got here for him. Taking his shirt off, he dropped it on the ground. "Uh huh," he gave a firm nod. "He's really strong. He can throw me up up up in the air and catch me." Letting his pants slide to the floor, he sat down and tugged them until they pulled over his sneakers, and then got up again. He wasn't taking his shoes and sox off. "Done!" 

Dean realized the kid was going to trip over the curtain if he could even hold it up, and he couldn't reach the sink. "Crap," Dean muttered. He hadn't dealt with a kid since Sammy and Sammy was his brother.

He sighed. "Good job, dude. Okay just stand there a minute. Dean grabbed the soap out of the first aid kit and couple of the bandages. He turned the water on after using the pump to prime it and soaped up one of the bandages. "Okay, Sean, I'm going to wash up your scrapes and stuff and then kinda wash you down a little. You okay with that? If you want to wait for your dad to do it, that's okay."

He shrugged. "You can do it." He made a face as the not too warm water touched him, but he held still until Dean was done scrubbing him. He did smell better, but he was a little cold now. 

"Okay, over to the fire, Sean," Dean said and as soon as the kid sat down on one of the cushions, Dean wrapped him up in the curtain. At this point he called Sam.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, a yawn in his voice, "You okay? Get the guy back safe?"

"I got the kid, don't ask, long story. Bring me fresh clothes and a couple trash bags. The kid's already called his dad and they're on their way. I'm back at cabin 29. And Dude, I would so not be against you renting one of those four-wheelers. Bring me coffee and donuts and food and whatever. I want outta here as soon as they get the kid."

"Uh, okay, Dean," Sam said, disturbed that Dean hadn't answered his question about being okay and about the other guy. He could tell his brother was upset, even pissed about something. He hoped the guy hadn't gotten killed. "I'll get there as fast as I can."

"Good," was all Dean said before he ended the call. He went to the dialed out numbers, and found the one he didn't recognize that had to belong to Xander, the kid's dad.

He dialed it and waited for someone to pick up. A man's voice answered. "Yeah, this Sean's dad?" Dean asked.

"Hello? Who is this?" Xander asked, holding the phone to his ear as he looked at the map spread out on the passenger seat. "And yeah, I'm his dad." His hand tightened on the steering wheel. 

"Dean Young. I helped Spike get Sean out." Dean paused a moment, "I'm going out on a limb here but I'm guessing if I tell you goblins had the kid, you're gonna believe me."

"He's fine, right? My kid is still okay?" Xander insisted. When he got confirmation, he let out a breath. "Yeah. Figured it could be something like that. Just my luck, my kid takes after me with the whole 'demon magnet' thing," he gave a self deprecating chuckle. That was part of the reason he'd called on Spike. "Why? I mean I'm on my way to the cabin right now, is there a problem?"

"I wanted to make sure Sean told you 29, not the cabin he was grabbed from, for one. If you can, bring the kid some fresh clothes. I cleaned him up, made sure his scrapes are okay and, yeah, everything's minor. Some bruises on his wrists, scraped elbows and knees and a place on his ribs one of the goblins scratched him to knock him out. I'm washing out his clothes, but I don't know if they'll be dry when you get here. I got some soup heating up in the fireplace for him and got him wrapped up in one of the curtains. No blankets in this place." Dean paused. "Spike had to stay back at the cave what with the sun coming up. I know he's a vamp and ...what's his story? You obviously trust the bloodsucker or he wouldn't be here helping."

Xander had looked at the huge bag on the floor of the passenger seat his wife had made him take for Sean, but had at the same time wondered why Dean was going into such detail as to what was going on with his son. Not that he didn't appreciate it, but he felt like it was all leading somewhere else. Then he'd gotten to the Spike thing. "Hey, no one gets to call him bloodsucker, or leech or anything else, but me." Shifting gears, Xander bent his head to the side to hold the phone with his shoulder for a moment. "What do you wanna know that you couldn't have asked him? Did you piss him off or something?"

Dean grit his teeth. "I'm a hunter. I didn't know the guy was a vamp when I went out with him looking for your kid in the middle of the night. I've toasted my share of vamps, but the vamps I've come across they can walk in the light, wear fucking crosses, and pretty much everything in the lore is wrong. I met one nest, they don't feed on humans. I let them walk. Stopped the hunter who was torturing the chick and made sure her and her buddies got away. Spike can't walk in the sun. I'm figuring he's got more demon in him or something and I'm guessing the lore is more accurate for his type of vamp." Dean knew he was sort of babbling which wasn't like him at all, and he knew exactly why he was babbling. But what was he going to say to this guy? "Hey I fucked your friend, it was awesome, but now I'm freaked he's what I hunt and that I still want to fuck him again." Yeah. Not happening. Dean ran his hand through ihs hair. "Yeah, look, nevermind. So long as he doesn't feed on humans, I don't give a shit. I just wanted to be sure you knew which cabin to come to, and I didn't want you freaking out on me cause your kid's only got a curtain wrapped around him. You wanna talk with him again?" Better to end the call before it went places he didn't want it to go.

"Hey... look, I think I get it. He's an annoying prick, but you can't help liking him and then you feel like you need to hate him because of what he is. Been there, done that. Trust me, when a close friend of mine broke up with him, no one could have been happier. I was happy, just because he is a vampire. Now I know how wrong I was," he turned onto a dirt road and avoided a large puddle. "He's saved a lot of people. A lot." Xander remembered Spike's sacrifice. "Anyway, all I'm saying is if you're thinking of going after him to kill him, don't. A - he isn't that kind of vampire, B - he will kick your ass, I don't care how good you think you are. And C - touch him, and the Slayer will come after you, and _she_ , for sure will kick your ass. And if you don't know team Slayer, look us up... or her up. It's under 'Slayer, The,' in all the usual books." He looked at his watch. "I should be there in fourty five minutes. We can talk more if you want, but I think you should let it go."

Let it go. Yeah. He should, but he couldn't get the man's face out of his head. The Slayer. Huh. He thought she was just a legend. So the great vampire slayer was friends with Spike the vampire. There was just something so wrong with that on so many levels. "Like I said, if he doesn't kill people to survive, I don't give a shit." Even though a voice in the back of his head said he did which was just fucking nuts. "Forty five minutes. Fine. We'll be here. My brother's headed up this way too, so you might run into him. Dark hair, tall, his name's Sam. Just so you know." Dean walked over to Sean and handed him the phone. "I called your dad to let him know you're okay."

After giving the kid the phone he walked back over to the sink to rinse out the kid's clothes and clean off any goblin slime from his weapons.

Dammit, why'd the guy have to be a fucking vampire?

* * *

First thing Dean did when he got back to the motel was shower. He scrubbed and scrubbed until he was practically raw. Peeling off the bandages he found the deep claw marks he was still sure he would find weren't much worse than getting scratched by a cat or thorns or something. One area still kinda hurt and burned and it looked maybe a little infected. He squeezed and nearly puked as green goblin slime and all its stench seeped out. He washed and squeezed and pried at it until he was certain it was clean and made sure all his other scratches weren't inflamed. No more goblins, ever, he vowed silently.

When he finally couldn't smell goblin on himself he stepped out and dried off. Sam had taken his clothes and jacket to the laundromat. He slid into his last pair of jeans and looked around. Where the fuck were his boots? He groaned. Sam must have taken them too. They were leather. If that stench got into the leather, he might as well write them off. Well, he had his old pair of boots that he usually wore when they went grave digging.

When his cell phone rang he picked it up off the table, glancing at the caller ID. It was Sam.

"Yeah?"

"Dude, I've washed everything twice in hot water and they still stink. I think it's hopeless. Your boots too. At least you weren't in your leather jacket. Hope they don't check out the Jeep when I return it. It reeks too."

"Pitch 'em," Dean said. Crap that meant a run to the local salvation army or something. Sam had the Jeep for the rest of the day so Dean's Impala was still sitting outside the room. "Guess I'm going shopping. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay. We gotta drop off the Jeep by six and it's about twenty minutes from the motel."

"Right. I'll be back in time."

After ending the call Dean returned to the bathroom and smeared antibiotic cream over his chest, his fingers lingering over his nipples, remembering the vampire's touch. He shook his head with disgust and finished bandaging himself up. Dressing in about three layers of shirts and his father's hand me down coat, he headed out for the closest Salvation Army store in the phone book. Okay, the only Salvation Army store. He paused when he saw the old beat up GTO sitting at the end of the parking lot. The windows were black as night. Could it be Spike's? This one horse town only had two motels and this was the cheap one. Even if it was, Spike was still stuck at that stench ridden cave until the sun went down. He saw the do not disturb sign hanging on the door and wondered if the small fridge in the room, instead of being filled with beer, had neat little rows of bottled blood...

Clenching his jaw, he peeled out of the parking lot. Damn him. God damn him.

Dean found a couple pair of ratty jeans that were his size, a green coat kinda like the one he just lost and frankly was in better shape than the goblin slimed one, and a pair of boots that looked practically new and fit perfectly. Somebody probably got them for hiking and discovered they didn't like hiking or gave 'em blisters or something. He found a pair of jeans that he knew would fit Sam, and picked up a couple shirts to replace the ones he'd lost. He looked over at the boots again. One pair, they were in pretty good shape and they looked like they might fit Spike. It was a sure bet Spike's boots would be as ruined as his. After a moment of hesitation he grabbed them. He owed the guy something for saving his life, right? Not guy, vampire he reminded himself. Still, he owed him. He couldn't help but remember the way Spike looked after the kid and the look of adoration in the munchkin's eyes for the man. Shaking himself out of his memories he paid for everything and headed back to the motel.

Did he really want to know? Did he really want to be sure it was Spike's room? Hell no. That's why he stopped in the office and asked the clerk if it belonged to a Brit with a long leather coat and bleached blond hair.

It was Spike's room. He picked the lock with practiced ease and stepped into the dimly lit room. There wasn't much in the room except for an empty ice chest and a duffel. Unzipping the duffel he looked inside. A change of clothes, some wooden stakes, a half empty bottle of whiskey--the good stuff that was surely what was in the flask Spike had let him drink from, and a long wicked daggar. Opening the fridge...blood. A milk jug almost completely full of it. He opened it and took a whiff. Dean knew what human blood looked and smelled like. He had seen and smelled a lot of it through the years. This wasn't human. He didn't know what it was, but it wasn't human.

Sitting down heavily on the bed, he looked around. He ran his hand absently over the pilled, worn bedspread of the still made bed. Damn that had been good sex, hellagood sex. There was a fire, a connection between them. Maybe because they were both predators and either could be prey for the other. Maybe because...shit. Who the hell knew. Who cared. Now that he knew what Spike was... wisest to just forget him. Yeah. He'd find himself something young and pretty and busty as hell and fuck her all night long. After getting dinner he would head to the bar. Spike would probably take to the road as soon as he got back and showered anyhow and that would be the best for both of them.

Taking a final look around, he left, leaving the boots right inside the door so Spike would practically fall over them when he returned.

* * *

The music drifted from the small dance floor all the way to the bar where Spike was trying to avoid it. Not only was it Country music, it was sad, everything is wrong with my life, broken hearts and lives type of music. Not that he was sad. He didn't even know the bloke that well. One night of sex and adventure was all they'd had. Then there was the look in those jade eyes, right before they'd turned away and stopped looking directly at him. Same eyes that only a short time before constantly followed him, or locked gazes with his own, warming his blood.

"Sodding hell..." He was wasting his time thinking about Dean. Taking the glass of whiskey, he swirled the amber liquid around, staring into it. Telling himself Dean had been clear, he didn't want anything to do with vampires. Even Xander had told him to watch out for the hunter who'd been asking questions, probably trying to learn what powers a vampire from the hellmouth had, and more importantly, what weaknesses. "Good luck with that, mate," he raised the glass to his lips and knocked it back.

_What about the boots?_

He firmly tapped his hand on the bar and asked for another drink. He had trouble explaining the boots. Maybe they were a parting gift. Maybe it was a way to repay him for... for whatever, and that way Dean wouldn't feel beholden to anyone. Spike knew first hand that was one way of cutting all strings. Not that there had been any strings. 

What were the odds of them being at the same motel? Okay, so there were only two motels but still. It was a bloody good thing his car had already been parked at the motel and that he'd been stuck up in the mountains at the time Dean figured out he was staying at the same place. Otherwise, the hunter would probably have thought Spike had followed him to the motel and was stalking him. 

Not that Spike never did that sort of thing. 

His mouth flattened as he once again looked into his glass. The first thing he'd asked Xander once he'd taken a shower at Xander's cabin was whether he knew where Dean was staying. So yeah... the stalking had been a possibility. Still was.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been at the bar when he felt a pull and knew by his scent, it was Dean. He was somewhere in the bar. Slowly, he turned just his head and easily found him. Dean was in a brown leather jacket and had layers of clothes on, like the man that walked in with him. Watching the other man steadily, Spike concluded there was nothing between them. Maybe that was the brother.

When he shifted his gaze back to Dean's face, the hunter looked at him at the same time. Spike's laser blue gaze drilled into him, before the vampire raised his glass slightly in salute.

At seeing Spike, Dean froze and Sam had to bump his shoulder to get to him to move further into the bar.

"C'mon Dean, what's..." Sam's gaze followed Dean's and he saw the guy at the bar staring at them. He saw Dean give a jerk of a nod in acknowledgement to the guy then led Sam to one of the booths by the dance floor, about as far as they could get from the guy at the bar. He noted that Dean took the seat that let him watch the guy though.

Dean had been been acting weird ever since he picked him up at the cabin. The kid was gone by the time he got there and Dean had been pacing around outside like a caged tiger, never mind that he was shirtless with bandages on his chest and it was pretty chilly out still. Dean hardly grunted a hello as he grabbed the stuff Sam handed him, went inside, and changed. Sam had followed him in, saw the cozy nest by the fire that Dean must have put the terrified kid in. Sam had put the cleaned weapons into a fresh duffel and decided to get out of the cabin and decided his father was wrong. Goblins stunk worse than ten skunks in a small room. More like a hundred dead skunks in a small room. He had been really glad the Jeep's top was down and the rain hadn't materialized because even with Dean's clothes and duffel in the trash bag, god, they still reeked and so did Dean. When he pressed Dean for details about how bad he was hurt, why he went off to find the kid on his own and didn't wait for Sam, how many goblins there were, Dean gave him pissy curt answers. "I'm fine, ran into a damned good tracker that wouldn't wait until morning, three, they're dead, kid's fine, tracker went their own way. Anything else?"

Dean hadn't snapped at him like that since...well since Dad had died and Sam had been pushing him to open up. The ride down from the cabin had been pretty much silent, and Dean went right in to get a shower, hardly acknowledging Sam when Sam told him he was headed to wash the clothes. He'd been only mildly less pissy when Sam called and told him the clothes just weren't losing that _eau de goblin_ aroma.

When he heard the Impala pull into the parking lot a few hours after he got back, Dean didn't come in right away. He finally stepped out to see what was taking Dean so long and saw Dean walking out of a room further up the way and still looking annoyed. Sam immediately went back inside and didn't think Dean had seen him.

When they went out for dinner at a nearby mom and pop diner after dropping off the Jeep, Sam finally asked him if the motel room belonged to the tracker. Dean had given him a glare to melt steel, bit into his burger and muttered "yeah." When Dean didn't order any pie, or hell even finish his entire meal, Sam _knew_ something was eating his brother big-time. 

Dean was _still_ crank city when they got back to the motel, but he'd seen Dean's eyes drift down to the motel room he'd broken into and the car that was still parked in front of it's door.

"So was this tracker of yours good looking?" Sam ventured.

"Yeah."

Sam was getting tired of Dean's attitude but was also a little worried. "She made it out of the goblin cave okay, right?"

Dean tossed the TV schedule he was looking at back on the small table. "The tracker was fine, okay? What's with the fucking tenth degree?"

Sam let it drop. When he suggested a possible case in Arkansas, Dean blew it off. Said he needed a couple days to chill and here was as good a place as any. Plain as day, Sam saw it in Dean's eyes, he'd liked this tracker. Alot. He didn't get tied up in knots like this when a case went well. They should be celebrating and Dean should be chomping at the bit to see what else was down the road, what the next case was. Hell, Sam couldn't recall ever seeing Dean get this tied up in knots over anyone except maybe Cassie.

"Dean..." Sam had started and Dean gave him that look that warned him to shut the fuck up about it. Raising his hands in surrender Sam suggested the bar and now here they were. They both got whiskey though Dean ordered two for himself and downed the first one as soon as it arrived. His brother's gaze kept drifting to the blonde guy at the bar, hardly glancing at the couple of good looking women dancing nearby.

No, that couldn't be the tracker. His brother didn't sleep with guys...did he? Sam thought long and hard about it. He had seen Dean give the occasional discreet once over to a good looking guy. Seen Dean take an awful long time in the bathroom now and again and looked pretty damned pleased with himself when he came out. Dean was a slut, they both knew it. He'd sleep with damned near anyone, Sam had just always figured it was girls but it didn't take much of a stretch for Sam to believe Dean might swing either way. Huh. What if the tracker and the guy at the cabin were one and hte same?

Sam looked over his shoulder at the object of Dean's gaze. The guy was good looking, no doubt.

"That your tracker?" Sam finally asked.

Dean's gaze shot to his brother, practically nailing Sam to his seat with that gaze. "I don't swing that way," he snapped.

"Nothing wrong with it if you did," Sam said. "Might explain how come everyone is always mistaking us for a couple."

Dean snorted but his eyes became veiled as he stared down into his glass of whiskey. "You know I only hit on girls, Sammy," Dean said.

"No, I know that's all I see you hit on when I'm with you."

Dean looked up at his brother, surprised at how well Sam was taking the possibility he did swing both ways. Dean finally gave a shrug his eyes almost challenging. "Yeah."

"Yeah, what? He's your tracker friend? You swing both ways?"

Dean gave a long sigh. He hadn't ever wanted Sam to know that about him, but since his brother had more or less finally caught on, he didn't see the sense in denying it. At this point, if he did, Sam would be watching his every move like a hawk. "Yeah to both."

Sam sat back, surprised Dean had owned up to it. Equally surprised Dean did swing both ways, but really, it wasn't a big deal to him. Not something he wanted to picture, Dean doing it with a guy, but Dean humping a girl wasn't something he really wanted to think about either. "Then what are you doing sitting here? Go talk to him."

Dean shook his head. He gave a smirk, but Sam saw the sadness in his eyes. "That would be a real bad idea, Sammy."

Sometimes Sam just wanted to smack Dean upside the head.

Spike openly watched Dean, trying not to show any reaction each time the hunter pulled his gaze away as if to dismiss him. Only he kept looking back, and then his brother turned to look as well. They were talking about him, he could tell that much. They were near the music, so even with his sharp hearing, he didn't pick up a lot of what they said. He had half a mind to walk up to them and ask if they were plotting his demise. Maybe that would get a reaction out of Mr. strong, stubborn and determined. Lifting his glass, Spike knocked back the lot of it, never taking his gaze off his... his what? _Obsession_ , he decided. It was as good a word as any for Dean.

Dean saw the glare Sam returned to him, then saw the determined set to his chin. Oh crap was the first thing that came to mind. He had a feeling a little brotherly revenge was on the way. After all, how many times had Dean tried to push Sam into sleeping with a girl, or hell, just going out on a date with one.

"Going to go order us a couple more drinks," Sam said, pushing himself out of hte booth and heading toward the bar.

"God dammit Sam," Dean muttered.

Sam walked over to the bar, right next to the guy who had been the focus of Dean's attention since they arrived. He gave the guy a once over then turned to the bartender. "Two whiskeys."

When the bartender got him the two Sam pushed across the money. He cocked an eyebrow at the guy who's eyes hadn't left him and was definitly a little leery of him.

"My brother and you," Sam said, "obviously need to talk." He pushed the drinks over to the blond guy. "So go talk. I'm tired of getting my head bit off."

Spike regarded Sam for a long moment, then gave a nod. Taking the the two drinks, he gracefully slid off the stool and strolled toward Dean. Though he was smirking slightly, he told himself there were no guaranties that their talk wouldn't end the same way it had in the goblin cave. 

Dean was cursing Sam the whole time he was up at the bar. When he saw Spike headed in his direction, his gaze slid to the dance floor. A slow dance song had just started. He so did not dance, but if the choice was between dealing with the vampire and slow dancing, he'd dance. Pushing himself out of the booth, he approached a dark-haired chick who had been dancing with her girlfriends and asked for the dance. The girl readily agreed, and Dean pulled her into his arms, turning his back to Spike.

Standing a few feet away from the table Dean had abandoned, Spike turned his head and watched him draw the woman into his arms. Didn't take long for the hunter's hands to start to rove over her body. Right, Spike had first hand experience there. He looked at the ground for a moment, stuffing his disappointment down and telling himself it didn't matter. It was what he'd half expected anyway.

Turning on his heels, he headed back to the bar and set the drinks down in front of the taller brother. As he pulled a few bills out of his pocket, he felt the bloke's questioning look. "With some people, it comes down to what you are, not what you do, doesn't it?" Dropping the money onto the bar, he walked out, never looking at the dance floor again.

Dean danced with the girl for the next handful of dances. When he finally looked around the bar he saw that both Spike and his brother were gone. Pulling the girl into a kiss. he tried to enjoy it, enjoy her cinnamony taste, her sweet lips, but all could think about was he could be kissing Spike right now. _Vampire,_ he reminded himself and kissed the girl a little more intensely. She smiled at him when he ended the kiss.

Looking into her brown eyes he started to see if she wanted to bail, go back to her place, but the words caught in his throat. He gave her a charming smile.

"I enjoyed it," he said. "I...I gotta go now. Thanks for the dance."

The girl's smile turned into a pout. "I thought maybe you might like to see my place. Big king sized bed, beautiful view of the mountains," she said looking coyly down at her large breasts. She ran her fingers down his chest until she reached the button to his jeans and rubbed her fingers across it promisingly. "You sure?"

Dean ran his hand down her silky dark hair. "If I did, I know I'd be one helluva lucky guy but...I just can't. Not tonight. It's my loss." Turning, Dean returned to his booth and tossed back what was left of his whiskey. He went up to the bar, ordered a double which he downed in one fell swoop then headed out of the bar and back toward the motel half a block up the road.

* * *

Spike stood in the parking lot, leaning against his car. He'd gotten most of his gear packed away and was having a smoke. He couldn't help it if his eyes kept going to Dean's motel room. He knew it was Dean's room because he could smell Dean's scent...and the barest hint of goblin stench. He'd walked by it, listened and heard only one person's heartbeat. It wasn't Dean's... he'd know that beat anywhere. 

It wasn't his bloody business if Dean was happily in the arms of that brunette he'd been with, good on him if he was. He forced the images out of his head, and took a long drag on his cigarette. The smart thing to do would be to walk to reception and check out. Leave this whole business behind him.

Only something inside him kept him rooted and waiting. Waiting for the impossible.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean really wished he'd gotten a helluva lot more drunk than he had as he approached the motel. Maybe Spike was gone by now. Then he could just put the guy out of his mind. He'd forget the vampire...eventually. 

He pulled the Impala into a parking space right in front of his door, refusing to look down the way to see if Spike's car was still there. He didn't want to know. As it was, he was still too awake for his liking and he was sure Sam was going to be inside ready to give Dean his best bitchface. Should he tell him Spike was a vampire? Sam already knew, or at least suspected Dean and the guy had slept together. He had no idea how Sam would react to Spike being a vampire, but he knew how he would react if he found out Sam slept with a vampire. Piss poor. He would rip Sam a new one even if he hadn't had a clue that Spike was a vamp. Not that vanilla Sam would ever sleep with a guy. 

Dean couldn't stop beating himself up over the whole thing. He should have known Spike had been less than warm to the touch. Even if Dean had been fucking frozen at the time, he still should have picked up on it. Instead his downstairs brain took over. And now little brother knew he swung both ways. That pissed him off even more. 

After sitting in the car and letting the song "Back in Black" finish out, Dean finally shut the Impala's engine off and got out. Since he was going to have to deal with Sammy in all his bitchfilled glory, a Coke sounded real good. Beer sounded better. Or more whiskey, but a Coke was the best he was going to get so he headed to the vending machine. 

He fished out some coins and pressed the button, waiting until the can dropped with a distinct clatter. Reaching in, he extracted the cold can and popped it open with his index finger, taking a long pull from it. He should have gone home with the girl, whatever her name was. Maybe a good luck fuck with her would have taken his mind off of what he really wanted. Something he couldn't have and shouldn't even want in the first place.

Rounding the corner on his way back to his room, Dean stopped suddenly. Spike was there in tight black jeans, a tight black tee, and a red over shirt. Cigarette smoke drifted out of that mouth he'd been imagining kissing. And the mother fucker was sitting on the hood of his baby, one foot up on the hood! Boots he'd gotten the bastard.

"Get the hell off my car!" Dean growled at the vampire.

The heat of Dean's anger was palpable. It was better than the utter lack of emotion with which he'd looked at him earlier, anything was better than that. "Touchy, aren't you? She must have been the worst three minute fuck ever." Flicking the ash off his cigarette, Spike leaned back slightly and cocked his head to the side. "Or maybe you're spoiled for something else and _she_ didn't do it for you," he drawled, giving Dean a knowing look. 

"Harris was right. You are a prick. Get off my car. _Now._ " He glared at Spike, pissed at him on so many levels. Pissed Spike was sitting on his car. Pissed he was so freaking smug and arrogant. As if Spike was the best fuck he’d ever had. There was Lisa the yoga instructor, for one, and Cassie…and Lisa…and—and—and he grew even angrier when he couldn’t quite deny to himself Spike probably was the best he’d ever had. Not that he’d tell the vampire that. 

"One hot place to stick it is as good as any other," Dean snarled. He strode forward to physically pull Spike off his car. If Spike so much as put a scratch on his baby, he’d kill him.

Spike's chest arched forward under the force of Dean grabbing his shirt, though his ass stayed planted on the car. Head tipped back, he stared at Dean for a few seconds. "Not what you were saying when ou were in _my_ hot hole," he said, chin up, eyes challenging him. "'You're the best fuck I've had,' I've got a good memory, yeah?" he added, quoting Dean and tugging him slightly closer. 

Spike's reminder of his own words pissed Dean off even more.

"Off. My. Car," Dean growled threateningly. He braced himself, stepped back, and pulled hard. Spike might be strong but he didn't have any real leverage. When he pulled Spike off the car they were suddenly chest to chest and Dean was looking down into those blue eyes. A muscle in his jaw clenched. He fished into his pocket and pulled out his keys, unlocking the passenger side door, never taking his eyes from Spike. Opening the door, he reached around inside to pop the lock on the back door then shut the passenger's side door. Hand still wrapped in Spike's shirt he walked backward until he reached the back door of the Impala and opened it.

"You are one smug arrogant bastard," Dean said softly, almost threateningly. Then he yanked Spike close and captured his mouth, forcing his tongue in between Spike's lips, his tongue demanding a response. He dropped his keys in his pocket then wrapped that arm around Spike's back pulling him tightly against his body. He turned them so Spike's back was to the beckoning rear seat of the Impala.

They were mouth to mouth, and the hunter was unleashing his fury in that kiss, ravaging Spike's mouth. Spike had wanted Dean to explode, hadn't he? Now he got what he wanted and wouldn't think about what came next. Dropping down onto the seat, with Dean still all over him, Spike slid along the seat, carrying part of Dean's weight over him. The instant Dean's mouth pulled away, Spike started to talk. "Which hole do you have in min--"

It was as far as he got. Dean just pulled the door shut and was back on top of him. This time, Spike's tongue pushed past Dean's and slid into the wet heat of the hunter's mouth. The taste of whiskey and Dean, and the scent of leather, Spike couldn't think of a more lethal combination. He wanted to feel Dean's body and that bloody jacket was too thick. Groaning, he started to push Dean up and dragged the jacket off his shoulders, cursing when Dean didn't let go of him so he could get it completely off.

Dean couldn't stop himself, he couldn't stop touching Spike, gripping him as they kissed. _Vampire._ the hunter in him warned. _I don't give a shit,_ Dean answered and kissed Spike harder. He felt Spike try to get rid of his coat. With a growl Dean forced himself to let Spike go to shrug out of the coat that he threw onto the front seat. Spike's hands were on him, helping him out of his other shirts. He practically ripped his own t-shirt off then turned to Spike, back in a lip-lock with him as he pulled Spike up and with one hand pushed that red over shirt off then grabbed the hem of that tight black t-shirt and pulled it up. Spike helped but as soon as the shirt was over Spike's head, Dean twisted the shirt, binding Spike's arms with it. 

Sitting back but not letting go of the t-shirt binding Spike's arms, Dean's gaze roved hungrily over Spike's body. Vampire or not, there were still faint marks on Spike's chest that Dean had given him the night before. Blood practically poured into Dean's already hard cock. He bent down and licked up Spike's chest. He still tasted Spike's cigarette in his mouth, the whiskey, and the unique flavor of Spike: spicy, earthy, and delicious. He groaned as his mouth slid over Spike's chest, teasing his nipples, biting, licking, sampling every bit of flesh he could. He wanted this man, wanted him in every way possible. His blood was on fire and as helpless as he'd been when Spike had been the one on top of him on the couch, he felt that way now, like Spike had snagged a part of his soul and wouldn't let go.

Arms trapped above his head, for a fraction of a second, Spike wondered whether Dean would suddenly produce a wooden stake. He hadn't lived this long without learning sex could be used as a weapon. But when Dean's gaze raked over him, completely hot and edgy, Spike knew Dean was losing his battle against primitive carnal lust. The fact that the hunter didn't want to give in to it filled Spike with a sense of power and made him want to push Dean over the edge.

As Dean's mouth worked his nipples into hard pin pricks, Spike's head rocked back, hitting the door. The hunter had taken control and Spike found his inability to touch him and having to allow Dean to do whatever he wanted, strangely erotic. Biting his lower lip, he watched Dean move down his body, writhing when he reached his stomach and sucked his flesh into his mouth. Desire lanced through him, had him arching up against Dean's mouth. "Dean... fuck..." His groan was low and guttural. He struggled against the shirt around his arms, a thrill going through him as he felt Dean fighting him on it, making sure he didn't free himself.

The way Spike moved, the sounds he made, inflamed Dean more. He felt Spike struggle and he tightened his hold, making sure anything less than use of vampire strength would not set Spike free. Dean bit at the taut flesh he had sucked in his mouth, smiling as Spike arched more. He finally let go, licking over the mark he'd made on Spike's stomach, then working his way further down. Keeping Spike restrained and going much lower down his body was going to be a problem. 

Each sweep of Dean's hot wet tongue along his abs and inching lower sent Spike's blood surging straight to his cock. Looking past his belt, Spike could clearly see the proof of his arousal, his hard flesh straining against the material of his jeans. Groaning, he lifted his hips high, his belt buckle scratching the hunter's chest as he tried to get some much needed pressure on his groin. "Take it out. Wank me off," he demanded.

Dean hissed as the buckled scraped over part of his bandages. Dean resituated himself as he licked back up Spike's chest. He reached between them as he looked down at the needy man beneath him. 

"What kind of a word is 'wank?'" Dean said as he un-did Spike's belt. "And you do like to demand it your way, don't you?" He swooped down and took Spike's mouth, tongue fucking him as he worked open Spike's jeans. Reaching inside he took hold of Spike's cock and squeezed but with the intent of pleasure, not pain. He rubbed his thumb over Spike's tip, feeling the leaking precome. He returned the agonizing pleasure Spike had given him, squeezing Spike's hard cock in rhythm to the tongue fucking.

Finally breaking off from the kiss he stroked Spike's member then reached deeper to fondle his balls. He leaned in and whispered in Spike's ear. "I want in you, I want to fuck you." He ran his hand back up Spike's cock, slicked his fingers, then dove deeper with his hand to Spike's hole, where he pushed one finger in and immediate brushed over Spike's prostate to ease any discomfort the intrusion gave him. Pulling back so he could see Spike's face he said, "So, you just want a hand job or do you want me shoving my cock deep inside that tight needy hole of yours?" He began finger fucking the man, rubbing his finger over that nerve bundle of pleasure again and again as he watched his face intensely. "Hmmm Blue Eyes? Tell me what you want and maybe I'll give it to you."

Lifting his hips, Spike clenched his muscles around Dean's finger, drawing him in, showing him what he wanted. His eyes clashed with Dean's as he pushed up, forcing Dean's finger deeper inside him. "Like it a bit nasty, don't you?" Resisting the urge to rip the tee shirt off his arms, he tipped his head back. "Want you to fuck my face. Want to get your cock wet and hard, make you so desperate and hard you split me open with one thrust. Want you to pound into my tight arse as hard as you can, see if you can make me shout." Slowly, he licked his lower lip, his stomach muscles tightening as Dean's gaze followed the path of his tongue. "Come on hunter, what are you waiting for? I can be your dirty little secret," he added, fueling Dean's anger.

Dean thought fucking the man would be enough, thought that was all he wanted, until Spike started talking. Fucking into that delicious mouth, followed up by shoving deeply into Spike, he shivered in pleasure at the thought as he watched Spike's tongue, imagining that tongue on his cock, those lips wrapped around him as he thrust inside that wet heat. To fuck Spike's mouth in the back seat of the Impala, he would have to be below Spike for Spike to suck him off. He gave Spike a smirk. "I can make you shout, vampire."

He released Spike's hands and pulled his finger out of Spike's hole, running his hand caressing along Spike's balls and up his shaft. He grabbed hold of Spike's tight jeans and slowly peeled them off the man, shifting so he could get them all the way off. Looking down at Spike's cock, he gave a soft moan. Usually, he was the one on the receiving end of blow jobs, just like he usually topped, but there was something about seeing Spike's thick cock, pearls of cum dripping from its tip that made he want to suck it. He bent over and took the tip of Spike's cock in his mouth, tonguing his slit, swirling his tongue around the crown and sucking on it. He loved it. He loved every moment of Spike's cock in his mouth, every taste of it.

Pulling off he look up at Spike. "I'm looking forward to dessert," he said as he straightened and opened his own jeans, shoving them down and off. He laid back. "Let's have at it then vamp. Show me what you got."

Thick, hard and pulsing, Spike regretted his request. Dean had worked him up and now, all he wanted was for the man to be inside him, fucking him hard. But a challenge was a challenge, and he could use it to his advantage, drive Dean to the very edge and then they'd both get what they wanted.

Moving around in the small space was hard but he managed since there was a prize at the end of this. Lowering one knee to the floorboard, he leaned in toward the juncture of Dean's parted thighs. Shoving his arms under each of Dean's knees and raising him slightly, he caught both Dean's hands and threaded his fingers through them. He liked the questioning look in Dean's eyes.

Completely immobilizing Dean's right hand by pressing it down to the seat, he gave him a smug smile. Pulling Dean's left hand down, their fingers still joined, he brought their flat palms over Dean's hard cock, rubbing up and down its length a few times, pressing down with the heel of his hand. Just as Dean got used to the motion, Spike twisted their hands onto their sides, so each of their thumbs closed around Dean's cock and they could hold him and stroke up and down his shaft. Spike watched Dean for a long moment, listening to his breaths, turned on just by the fact they were becoming more labored.

Dean had never felt anything like it. Just like the day before when Spike had run his thumbs up and down his shaft, now Spike was using his own hand to help stroke him. The man was creative. Then again, who knew how old Spike was and how much experience he had. When Spike twisted their palms away so it was just their thumbs ringing his cock he almost groaned, but he refused to give that to Spike. He met Spike's gaze, knowing how lustful his eyes probably looked. This man was amazing.

Spike didn't say anything, didn't have to, but merely lowered his head and licked Dean's sack. Feeling the shudder that went through the man, Spike started to thrust his tongue against his sack, coming at him from all angles, sometimes sucking on one side or the other, but keeping him guessing. He knew from how tightly Dean's fingers clenched over his that he wasn't getting enough pressure around his cock, that he wanted it... was trying to force their palms closer around his hard flesh, but it would be impossible... and frustrating.

Panting at this point, he had to give Spike credit. Between his tongue dancing all the hell over his balls and Dean's inability to feel more than just that thin ring of flesh around his cock, soft moans were beginning to spill out of him. His hips were beginning to thrust, jumping erratically as that evil tongue tasted and sampled him. He wanted to demand Spike go down on him, let him fuck that hot mouth like Spike had said, but he wouldn't. This was excruciating pleasure and while he wanted desperately to thrust into that mouth, he didn't want this to end. He would let Spike torture him because when it was his turn, he was going to return the favor. 

"Mmm," Spike hummed against Dean's sensitive flesh, licking the base of Dean's cock, then turning sideways to suck on it. The sensation of Dean rocking his hips up, as if to meet his mouth, to urge him on, inflamed Spike's own lust. When a few drops of cum dripped over his knuckles, he lifted his head. Dean's swollen head glistened enticingly. Need slammed into the vampire. He wanted... needed to wrap his lips around Dean's cock, wanted to swallow him down ... let him fuck his mouth as hard as he'd fucked him in the arse in the cabin.

Aching to take his cock between his lips, Spike resisted and licked his tip. Half closing his mouth, he used their joined hands to push the blunt tip of Dean's cock against it, smearing precome across his lips, teasing Dean by slightly opening his mouth then slipping away. "Ask me for it," he demanded, eyes locking with Dean's. 

Dean groaned as his dick was almost taken in by Spike. "You want me..." Dean panted, "...to fuck your face, then get your god-damned face down where I can fuck it." 

"Face is right here. You want me to 'suck it'... ask for it, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, Spike kissed his way up and down Dean's cock, sometimes brushing over their hands still jointly stroking Dean. He pressed his cheek against Dean's slick hard flesh, using his arms under Dean's knees to lift him higher, let him fuck his face. But his mouth... he kept it only partly open, too tight for Dean's head to slip past even when he was angled just right.

Dean arched as Spike teased him. Not enough pressure, even as he felt Spike's cheek against his cock or his lips ready to take him in but not letting him thrust into that tight wet cavern. He growled his frustration and need. Dammit. After another few minutes of Spike's talented skills, he finally caved.

"Take me in your mouth," Dean almost begged, though he tried to make it sound like a demand.

Releasing Dean's hand, Spike guided his cock to his mouth, only allowing the tip to penetrate at first. He sucked hard on it, hard enough to cause a bit of pain, then opened for Dean. Almost immediately, Dean's eager cock was inside his mouth, pushing all the way until it bottomed out at the back of his throat. Tightening his mouth around Dean's rock hard shaft, Spike pulled up, almost off, then took him back in. Grasping the base of his cock, he twisted his wrist in time with the movements of his mouth, long wet strokes, giving Dean what he wanted, letting him fuck as hard as he wanted. Listening to his groans, Spike thrust against the edge of the seat, giving his own trapped cock the pressure he needed.

The relief was indescribable. To finally feel Spike's mouth on him and holy shit, the man knew how to give a blow job. It took iron control not to grip Spike's hair in his fingers and just hold his head firm so he could fuck up into it. Spike's mouth sliding up and down his shaft, the way his hand worked him, it was better than anyone had ever done. A think sheen of sweat covered Dean's body as he thrust up again and again, gripping the seat to keep from holding Spike's head in place. He could feel he wasn't far off from coming.

Dean pushed himself up, practically groaning in pain as his cock slipped fully from Spike's mouth. With a hand on his shoulder Dean shoved Spike backwards then grabbed his thighs and yanked Spike towards him. He didn't give any warning, taking only a moment to align himself before burying himself just as Spike had wanted, in one brutal thrust. He groaned loudly at the resistance from Spike's tight sphincter as he invaded him. Spike's insides wrapped around him tightly and Dean threw his head back.

"Oh, God," he moaned as he shuddered at the exquisite feel. He promised Spike he'd make him shout, and not from surprise or pain, but from pleasure and he was going to keep that promise.

Dean didn't give Spike a chance to get used to him as he began to thrust, pulling out all the way and then burying himself again. He saw Spike's hands reach above his head to brace himself against the door. Dean pistoned in a few more times, then buried himself balls deep. He rolled his hips and closed his fist around Spike's cock, squeezing it tightly enough to give the man just a bit of pain before he began to stroke it erratically. He rolled his hips one way, stilled, and then wriggled his hips, first the right hip forward and then the left. After doing that a few times he rolled his hips again counter to the direction he had before. Just as Spike kept him guessing with his tongue, Dean did the same with Spike, wriggling, rolling, pistoning, stilling, and making damned sure to give hard if erratic pressure to Spike's prostate. 

Arm against the window, Spike pushed back against Dean, thrust for thrust, giving a pained groan when the hunter changed tactics and started to grind against him. Blinding heat lanced through him every time Dean's cock hit his prostate, making his hips buck and jerk in uncontrolled motions even as he tried to thrust into Dean's fist. Each time he concentrated on finding a rhythm, Dean wouldn't allow it. He clenched tight around Dean's thick cock, waiting for him to pull out and ram it back inside him, but again, Dean pumped in place. Frustrated, he almost broke down and pleaded. "Bleeding hell, man..." 

His hand moved from Spike's cock to toy with Spike's balls. Just as with Spike's dripping cock, he first gave them an almost painful squeeze before easing up and fingering them and gently rubbing them. His other hand went to Spike's cock then. He worked to ensure the sensations he was giving Spike rarely came at the same time. A thrust, following by a few quick strokes along Spike's shaft, then a roll of his hips following with gentle ball play. On and on he did this trying to give the man complete sensory overload.

A thousand sensations came at Spike all at once. His cock was hard and painful, in need of relief... relief that never fully came with Dean's start and stop strokes. Flames licked at his balls each time Dean touched and squeezed him, sometimes so hard his vision blurred. Then he'd release his sack and it would start all over again, the hard thrusts that he craved, the quick long strokes along his cock that had him moaning and lifting his hips, and it would slow down, making him want to sob. "Fuck... fuck me..."

He reached out with one hand, cupping Dean's neck and pulling his face close, kissed him aggressively. Pushing his tongue inside Dean's mouth, ravaging it with his punishing kiss. This man was torturing him, was driving him crazy... making him mad with need. Spike loved it. He hated it. He wanted more. 

Shoving him back, Spike's hand moved down to grip Dean's hip. "Game over. Fuck me. I want it hard. Want to feel you tomorrow," he said, dragging Dean forward with almost violent need as he pushed his own ass against the hunter's hips, groaning at the deep penetration and demanding more.

Dean honestly didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep up the tease with Spike. His balls were so heavy they hurt and his cock was pulsing with need. Spike's kiss twisted his need up that last fraction and he knew he was going to have to end it. Spike's demand was almost a relief. As it was, he suspected he was going to be sore tomorrow, regardless of how good of shape he was in.

Dean shoved in as deep as he could, leaning forward and bracing his hands on the door. "You'll feel me," Dean said assuredly.

He began slow, finding his balance, finding Spike's depth and once he knew he had positioned himself for the maximum he could give Spike, he let himself go and began pounding into Spike. He'd held back for so long, between Spike's teases and the teasing he had given Spike, his balls weren't readily willing to give up his seed. He pounded harder and harder, groaning, the car shaking as their bodies came together again and again, almost bruisingly hard. Faster he thrust, chasing his release, silently begging his body to fucking give it up already as he grunted with each deep thrust. All at once he shouted as his balls tightened up against his body so hard he couldn't see anything but white light. He shoved impossibly deeper and shuddered as he came so hard it wracked his entire body with the biggest orgasm he could every remember having. He pulled out and thrust in again as his cock pulsed repeatedly, spilling everything he had into Spike. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." The words spilled from Spike's lips as Dean gave him exactly what he promised, forcing his body against the door with every hard thrust of his hips. Pleasure. Pain. Lust. Intensely heady sensations that narrowed Spike's world to just the man laboring over him, fucking him with everything he had. In the limited space, he helped as much as he could, meeting Dean half way. Their grunts and moans inflamed him to new heights. His curses turned to "yes, yes... fuck... yes...." Dean's guttural cry as he came pushed Spike over the edge. "Dean!" he shouted, his fingers biting into the hunter's hip and his lower back as he gripped him and came to Dean's final thrusts. Milky white jets splattered against Dean's stomach and chest, giving Spike a strange sense of satisfaction. 

He pulled Dean down over him, felt him resist slightly but forced him down anyway. He liked having the man's entire weight pressing on him and knowing this might be the last time, he wanted to give him something special to remember, assuming the first thing he did wasn't to go to his room and get drunk. Sliding his hand up along Dean's throat to the side of his face, he kissed him. This time there was no challenge, no anger in his kiss. It was slow, he took his time deepening it, exploring every corner of this man's mouth. His other hand roamed down Dean's body, slowly, memorizing it. It was a slow burn, but by the time he broke the kiss, he'd earned a moan and felt Dean's cock twitch inside him. After the intense sex they'd had, that was a feat. 

He didn't tell Dean it was amazing, or perfect. It was something they both knew. But when he saw Dean's lips part to say something, he put his index finger over it. "Shshsh. Don't tell me to get out. Don't tell me why it's impossible or why a vampire's not good enough. Rather remember this moment just like this, yeah? I'll leave my number on your windshield, you do what you want."

Pushing Dean slowly off him, he closed his eyes as the hunter's cock slipped out of his body. Turning to sit up, he started to collect his clothes, using his tee shirt to clean up the mess they'd made, and pulling his jeans on.

Dean watched Spike clean himself up, his emotions a tangled mess. The kiss Spike had ended it with was the most romantic--okay, he fully blamed Sam for him coming up with that chick-flick word--he'd ever had. He wanted to pull Spike close, wrap his arms around him, and sleep blissfully in after-sex haze, together. Why'd Spike have to bring up the vampire comment. He'd almost forgotten. No, he had forgotten. But now it was staring him in the face. He pulled his own clothes on and climbed out of the back seat after grabbing his leather coat. Spike got out on the other side and he saw Spike lock the door before shutting it. Dean did the same to the doors on his side. He pulled out his hotel key and headed for the door to his room. He paused and turned around staring a moment at Spike who still stood by his car watching him. Spike looked fucked beyond fucked and made Dean Want to go pull Spike back in his arms and demand more. Instead he resisted, though his eyes were still filled with heat. He broke into a smirk. "Told you I'd make you shout."

With that, he unlocked the door and quietly slipped into the dark room, knowing his dreams would be filled with the vampire.

***

Dean groaned when the sunlight finally breached his eyelids. He ached, damned near everywhere but the smell of coffee was enough to entice him to open his eyes. He sat up with another soft moan as his back muscles complained.

Sam sat over at the window working on the computer, the curtain half drawn open and Dean glanced at the time. Shit it was going on ten. Not that it mattered he supposed but hell he'd gotten in probably about midnight maybe? Maybe later, he wasn't really sure. He'd taken a quick shower to rinse off, put on some sweats and a t-shirt, and collapsed into bed exhausted. Sam didn't say anything to him as he shoved a box toward him that Dean discovered had a homemade blueberry muffin that was about the size of 3 muffins. The little coffee machine the motel supplied had just finished brewing and Dean poured himself a cup and joined Sam at the small table.

He stared past Sam into the bright sunny day. He'd fucked a vampire. Okay, the first time he didn't know. He didn't have a clue until the Harris kid told him. He should have seen the signs, shouldn't he have? Pale skin, a body temperature too low to be normal, impressive strength...and, hell, there weren't any other indications. He hadn't noticed if Spike had a heart beat, but he suspected he didn't. Somehow he still felt his dad would be disappointed in him for not recognizing the man as a vampire. A thing. Something they hunted. Dead. That's what Spike was. A demon walking around in a dead shell of a body. 

And then there was last night. He'd known exactly what Spike was. He'd passed up getting laid with a well endowed chick because he couldn't get the vampire out of his mind. He had come back to the motel fully expecting Sam to chew him out for not talking with Spike, for walking away rudely and dancing with a girl. Maybe Sam thought Dean was embarrassed that Sam had found out he swung both ways. And what would Sam say if he told him his real dirty little secret, that Spike was a vampire. Before last night Sam could have told him it was okay, he didn't know. But after last night?

There was little doubt in his mind that Sam heard him shout at the vampire to get off his car. Sam probably heard the car doors close since Dean hadn't exactly been concerned with being quiet at the time. The only thing that had been on his mind was kissing Spike, touching him, fucking him. A vampire, a _vampire_ had gotten under his skin so bad he couldn't even think straight. Worse, Spike was right. Spike was the best god-damned fuck he'd ever had and considering how much Dean slept around, that was saying something. No, maybe that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that Dean wanted to do it again.

He remembered that kiss Spike had given him at the end, the way his tongue had moved in his mouth so gently, lovingly, even as his hands caressed his body as if trying to memorize every line, every scar, every muscle. He wondered if Spike ever liked it soft, easy, and loving, or if hard and brutal was the only way he wanted it. Dean didn't mind the hard, and the thought of Spike in cuffs, blindfolded, maybe even a collar, had Dean's dick twitching. But the thought of making long slow gentle love to the man was just as attractive.

Demon. Spike was a demon. Hard and brutal was surely his only way...but the kiss, that sweet gentle kiss suggested maybe not. Demons liked to fuck with your head, but vampires, hell he didn't know. Maybe they weren't really demons? No. No, Spike probably was part demon at least. Sunlight would turn him to ash. So stake to the heart, holy symbols, holy water, the whole nine yards probably. The thought of someone driving a stake through Spike's heart chilled him.

He pushed himself away from the table suddenly and stepped out the door, his gaze shooting up the way to look for the GTO with the black out windows.

Spike's car was gone.

Dean's jaw tightened and he felt his breath hitch as his heart practically fell into his stomach. Did he want to see the vamp again? Hell no! He should be thinking about running a stake through his, no _its_ heart, not thinking about how damned good it felt to be inside Spike's tight hole. Vampire. He was a vampire dammit. His eyes shifted to his car. A piece of paper was placed under the windshield wiper. Padding in his bare feet across the cold pavement, he pulled the paper out and opened it. A phone number. Spike's, just as he promised.

Dean returned to the room, staring at the numbers neatly written on the hotel stationary. After closing the door against the chill morning air, he just stood there, staring at it. What if...what if the hunter in him decided Spike needed a good beheading? What if he discovered Spike did chow on humans? Those glorious baby blues, glazed over in death, real death...Dean shuddered. He was cold he told himself. Just cold was all.

After one final look at the paper he wadded it up and threw it in the trashcan. "I'm getting a shower," Dean told Sam gruffly. "Pack up. I want the hell out of this BFE town. We've got work to do." He paused at the doorway to the bathroom. "Look up the lore on 'the Slayer' next time you get a chance," he practically ordered Sam, then slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

* * *

[Four Months Later]

They'd been on the road, heading for Midland Texas for hours and Dean had hardly spoken a word. When Sam suggested coffee, he'd merely grunted and then stayed in the car while Sam went out to grab some for both of them. And now, he had his eyes directly on the road, wearing a grim expression. 

Glancing at his brother, Sam thought he had to say something. He knew what was eating Dean and he was tired of it... this, having to deal with Dean's moods. "Dean." 

The silence was resounding. He turned to him and spoke a little louder, "Dean, what's going on?"

Dean growled to himself. Why couldn't Sam just let him be? "Nothing," Dean snapped. Reaching over, Dean slid a tape in and cranked the volume, trying to put an end to any further conversation. He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to talk about _him._

Sam huffed and looked out the passenger window. Now he had to suffer not only through Dean's mood, but his blaring music. He glared at his brother's reflection in the window and drummed his fingers on his thigh, hoping Dean would voluntarily lower the damned music and talk to him. Thirty minutes later, he reached out and lowered the volume himself. 

"Three and a half hours, and you haven't said more than ten words." He paused, waiting for Dean to look over. What he got was a distinctly unfriendly look. "Come on Dean, this is...it's..." he shook his head, "ridiculous and not necessary. You've had that guy on your mind for how many months now? And don't fucking deny it...you haven't picked up a girl since you met him. July Fourth, party town USA, and you didn't even go out. Don't you think you need to make a decision here?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean ground out. "So tell me again about this job. Ten people killed, drained of blood, punctures in the neck, like Hollywood vamps or something, right?"

"Disturbed and empty graves, the whole nine yards," he nodded, "but we're talking about you. Dude... four months without sex? It's making you cranky and unbearable... something's gotta give. I don't get it. If he's got you all tied up, why don't you just give the guy a call?" Staring at his brother, he waited for an answer, though he was prepared to get yelled at. 

_Tied up, there's a nice thought,_ flashed through Dean's mind, as did the image of Spike in chains naked and waiting for Dean. And then his dad scowling at him. Ripping him a new one like he'd been doing in a good half of his dreams and accusing Dean of being in love with a vampire. Hell, Dean had never been in love with anyone...except Cassie. When she'd thrown him out, it had hurt so damned much and he had never really gotten close to anyone since. He and Spike had only had two days together. Two. And still, he dreamed of the man. Followed by dreams of his father telling him he knew what he had to do, that he had to kill Spike. Spike was a vampire. A thing. 

_Don't tell me to get out. Don't tell me why it's impossible or why a vampire's not good enough. Rather remember this moment just like this, yeah?_

Spike's words still haunted him. He hated that Spike didn't think he was good enough for someone, especially for a piece of crap like Dean. But, dammit, he was a vampire and Dean was a hunter. It just wasn't meant to be. Just like him and Cassie.

Dean kept his gaze focused on the road. "Don't have his number." 

Lips pressed together, Sam gave a slow nod, a gesture his brother would recognize to mean a silent 'I see,' if he'd been looking over. Twisting around in his seat, he leaned over its back and retrieved his lap top bag. Setting it on his lap, he opened it up and pulled a wrinkled but folded up note out. "Now you do. Call him Dean, get whatever you need from him. A night, two nights... more," he shrugged. "I don't want you to regret passing up a chance."

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw the paper with Spike's almost artistically written phone number. His breath caught in his chest. He shook himself out of his shock when a little voice in the back of his head reminded him he was doing seventy-five miles an hour. His eyes snapped back to the road and a muscle in his jaw flexed. He was startled by the sting of tears in his eyes but he forced them back, chiding himself. He was not going to shed tears over a man he hardly knew. "Throw it away Sam. I'm not calling him."

"Why not?" Sam demanded, refusing to give up. "Look, is this about not wanting to be gay, bi, whatever? Cause Dean--"

Dean glanced over at his brother and snarled at him, "He's a vampire, Sam. He's a god-damned vampire, okay?"

Opening his mouth to argue, Sam snapped it shut and searched his brother's eyes. "Shit...." Sam let out a breath. "Sorry Dean, I didn't... I didn't know." Now it made sense, why Dean was even more wound up today. They were going vampire hunting and he had it bad for a vampire. He ran his hand through his hair, then remembering Madison, looked down. Sam had a 'thing' with her, then it had turned out that she was a werewolf and had to kill because it was only a matter of time before she killed someone. When he'd pulled the trigger, her eyes had pleaded with him to do it and get it over with. It had been one of the hardest things Sam had ever done, but he remembered Dean offering to do it for him. 

Without looking up, he eventually whispered. "It's not like Madison. She couldn't help herself. He's... he's got to be like Lenore, doesn't feed on humans." But would that make a difference to his brother? He'd had a helluva time convincing him to let Lenore live. 

Dean heard his brother, feeling a pang of sorrow, remembering his brother's tear streaked face as he went in to the other room to kill the first girl he had really grown attached to since Jessica. Sam had only had a few days with her, too.

"He's a different breed from Lenore. Can't be in the sun. I don't know if he's full blown Dracula or what. I never saw..." Dean shook his head. "I never saw anything, other than he wouldn't go out into the sun and the blacked out windows of his car. I didn't even know Sam, not at the cabin. Hell, not even at the cave till the Harris kid told me Spike couldn't come back to the cabin with us, that Spike couldn't come out into the sun." Dean laughed bitterly. "Some hunter, huh? Couldn't even spot a damned vampire. Then that night, when I came back from the bar...I knew what he was and I fucked him anyway. He's a vampire, a thing, a demon, and I couldn't keep my hands off him. Dad..." Dean shook his head, "Dad would kill me if he was still alive." Dean glanced over at his brother. "Let it go, Sammy. I can't...I just can't...not a vampire, not what we hunt. Not what we're probably getting ready to hunt now."

"Dad's gone, Dean." Sam couldn't stand the guilt, maybe even self loathing in his brother's eyes, all because of one person. But it was a battle he wasn't gonna win, so he relented. "Okay." Folding the paper back up, he absently let it fall to the floor board. 

* * * *

They'd been in the town for five days. All the killings were taking place in the south-western part of the city, about a three-quarter mile radius around one of the mid-range priced motels. The brothers had set up in a cheaper motel a quarter mile down the road from ground zero. They had visited the victims' families, the local coroner, the local funeral homes, and three different cemeteries where the victims had been laid to rest. Four of those graves were now empty. 

The killings had been anywhere from a day to three days apart. An eleventh victim had been found the previous night and his burial was four days away. Assuming there was a head vampire behind it, there were at least five vamps, six if the newest victim turned or rose or whatever. If there were five vamps, the killings were going to continue. The vamps had to eat, right?

No real pattern to the victims existed except that the ones that were now missing were good looking to down-right hot, including the newest one. The bodies of two women and two men were missing. Those who were still in the ground were more average Joes. The victims had been taken from bars, a grocery store parking lot, hell, even a bowling lane. They'd gone missing any time from soon after sunset to the middle of the night. In one case, the victims knew each other, one of them missing from his grave and one still in the ground.

Canvassing the motel at the center of things hadn't given them a damned thing. No one had come into town and been there over the course of the killings, no one slept during the day and came out only at night, nothing. They had even staked out the motel for two nights running and still not a god-damned thing. Dean was beginning to get pissed.

Evening was approaching as the sun sank closer to the horizon. The brothers had finally decided on a Mexican restaurant for dinner, sitting outside under the shade of the canopy reviewing everything they had. Which was shit. Dean was on his fourth beer staring out at the passing traffic and wondering if tonight another victim would be taken and feeling helpless to stop it. 

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed and suddenly stood up when he saw the beat up GTO with the blacked out windows drive by, heading east. The Impala was parked around back, no way to get to it in time. Spike's car was already well down the road, the speed limit thirty-five, and Dean hadn't seen it until it was past the restaurant.

Sam looked up from the laptop. "What?"

Dean stared after the rapidly retreating car, cursing under his breath. "Spike. I just saw his car." Turning to Sam he clenched his jaw. Dammit, it wasn't human blood in the fridge in the motel room, but that didn't mean Spike was anything more that what any other vampire was. A liar and a killer. Heavily, he sat back down onto the wooden chair wanting more than anything to deny to the possible truth. After a moment Dean finally said, "Maybe...maybe we do have a lead on the vampire." 

"Spike." Sam's eyes widened, then as the information really sank in, his jaw tensed. "Yeah, maybe we do," he said eventually, having done a complete turn about on his views about whether it would be okay for Dean to mess around with a vampire. Maybe some vampires, but not _this_ one. 

After their discussion in the car on the way into town, when Dean had told him Spike was a vampire, Sam had checked it out. Now, he surfed to his history pages on the net, then clicked. "You should probably take another drink," he said, before slowly turning his lap top around so Dean could see the results of his research on Spike, aka, William the Bloody.

Dean saw the ice in Sam's eyes before his gaze dropped to the computer and he began to read. Railroad spikes, that's how he got his name. He ran with some nasty vampires in his day apparently. The history was intermittent but William the Bloody was probably too kind a description of the bleach blond. He'd even taken down two of these superhero type Slayers supposedly. The more Dean read, the sicker he felt. He read it all in silence, scrolling through the pages of research and the accounts of Spike's past deeds. 

Pushing himself to his feet when he finished, Dean walked into the restaurant without a word. Heading straight for the bathroom, he went into a stall and puked his guts out, heaving until there was nothing left to heave, and then heaving some more. He told himself the dampness on his face was nothing but sweat, but he knew that was a lie. Just like the other lies he had told himself. That Spike didn't matter to him. That there wasn't a connection between them. That he dreamed of Spike only because Spike had been one helluva good lay. That he didn't care if he ever saw the blond vampire ever again. 

It was getting harder and harder to deny his feelings. Even knowing the truth about Spike, a part of his mind vehemently denied it all, remembering only those gentle hands mapping out his body and the slow loving kiss at the end of their love making. He had to face it, though. He felt something for Spike, something he shouldn't feel, not for a vampire. 

Just like Sam, he was going to have to kill someone he cared about. He was going to have to bring the blade down on the bastard's neck and watch as the head rolled away from the body as blood pooled on the floor. Those gorgeous blue eyes would be empty, those eyes that had looked at him with such lust, and even there at the end, love? Hope? Dean didn't know. 

Maybe Spike would turn to ash instead, like in the movies, and that would surely be better because then there would be no accusing empty eyes to stare back at him. The ash would swirl around him in a final caress before settling on the floor and that man would be gone for all time. A part of Dean would die that same day. He remembered again why he never got close to people, never let them touch his soul, because the Winchester curse meant anyone you loved died. They always died. 

He pushed himself up and flushed the toilet, then went to the sink and washed his face and rinsed out his mouth. Looking into the mirror, he saw the deadness in his own eyes, a look he hadn't seen in a long time and doubted that look would change anytime soon. This was just another job, he told himself, just another supernatural evil he had to kill. He straightened and walked back out. Sam was still sitting at the table, though he had heard a few people come into the bathroom and leave, and he wouldn't be surprised if one of those people had been his little brother.

Clearing his raw throat, Dean said, "C'mon. We need to find a place we can use, put down a devil's trap. You still got his phone number? He'll come if I call. I know he will." He added softly, "I would if he did."

Sam searched his brother's face and despite his business as usual tone, there was no hiding his anguish. Sam had been where Dean was. Biting his lip, he gave a nod and stood up. Quickly putting his lap top into his messenger pack, he dropped some money on the table and followed Dean. They walked in silence for a few moments, then he touched Dean's arm lightly. His brother turned and their eyes locked. "Let me take care of this," Sam offered. "You make the call, but I'll be waiting for him."

Dean turned away from Sam and kept walking, heading out the door and toward the back parking lot. "They never forget a scent, remember? It's gotta be me. He'd know right away I wasn't there and that you were. Don't worry about it Sammy. I got this one."

He tried to keep his game face on, tried to hide how very much this hurt. Sam had cried when he went to kill Madison. Dean didn't want that. He had to just suck it up and do his job. Once Spike was dead, maybe he would stop looking for that bleach blond hair, that long leather coat, or stop listening for that British accent or smelling Spike's brand of cigarettes. Sam didn't know, but Dean had gone so far as to buy a pack of that brand of smokes, some good whiskey, and sat on the hood of the Impala out in the middle of nowhere. He got drunk off his ass, closed his eyes as he smoked a cigarette, and jacked off to the memory of the vampire. But that was all before he knew...what Spike _really_ was. Not just a vampire, not just any vampire, but William the Bloody.

As he got in the Impala he wondered how long it took Sam to forget Madison. Dean had already suffered four months and Spike wasn't even dead. He didn't want to think how long it would take with Spike gone for good and it being all his fault.  
***  
So much time had passed since he'd left his number for Dean that when the hunter called, Spike was surprised enough to go silent for a moment. They hadn't talked long. Dean had rushed the conversation, keeping it short. He wanted to 'meet.' The husky tone to his voice told Spike that what Dean meant was 'fuck,' and that was fine by him. Spike hadn't gotten Dean out of his system, not that night in the Impala, and not over the course of months of waiting for that call, or fucking strangers that had Dean's look, or his eyes, or who remotely smelled like him. Too bloody often he'd been tempted to go find Dean. 

Winchester. Dean Winchester was his name, not 'Dean Young.' That hadn't been all that hard to find out and rumor had it Dean was a bad-ass hunter. Still, it was in Spike's nature to stalk that which he wanted, and Dean Winchester had somehow lodged himself in Spike's soul... the vampire definitely wanted him. But each time he'd been prepared to go, the Slayer had put him to work. He had a suspicion that having been on the other end of his stalking a decade ago, Buffy knew what he'd been about and this was her way of preventing it.

But now, his luck had turned. He'd bet the Winchesters had been in town to take care of the nasty vampire's nest that had taken hold. Too bad they were too late and he'd had the pleasure of taking care of them himself. 

He arrived at the isolated and abandoned farmhouse after the moon had risen. Parking close to the porch in case the sun rose before he left and he had to run for it under a blanket, he knocked on the door and pushed it open.

His eyes instantly sought out Dean who stood across the almost empty living room. Spike's entire body reacted, tensing with both joy and need. He could tell they were alone, no brother to worry about. This was exactly what Spike had hoped. Leaning against the frame of the door, he raised a brow. "Aren't you going to ask me in?"

When the door opened and Spike was standing there, in his black t-shirt and tight jeans, Dean felt almost a jolt of electricity surge through him. He drank in that body, that face, that voice, and simply stood staring at him. God, he wanted to walk across that room and pull Spike into his arms and kiss him, to let his hands rove over that firm delicious body he dreamed about practically every night. Spike's words brought him back to reality. Vampire. He couldn't come in without an invitation. Though since Dean didn't own the place and it was abandoned, he suspected Spike was merely toying with him.

He started to speak and felt his throat close up. He was going to have to kill him his father's voice reminded him. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, come in," Dean told him, refusing to look at the threadbare carpet that spread out from the door, the one that hid the devil's trap that would hold Spike. "Thanks for coming," Dean said, trying to keep his voice level, trying to keep the emotion out of it as he locked heated gazes with the vampire.

Spike cocked his head. It wasn't quite the welcome he'd anticipated, but the heat between them was thick in the air and palpable. Maybe Dean didn't want to appear too eager. Spike didn't have that problem.

Pushing off the door frame, he took long strides, straight for the man who'd tortured his dreams and even his waking hours. He'd played it over and over in his mind, the moment he'd take Dean in his arms and crush him against his body as he kissed him within an inch of his life, and there was no stopping him now.

At least, not until the air crackled with something. He took another step and felt the light barrier and frowned. Putting his hands out in front of him, he reached out, and there it was, humming against his skin. "Devil's trap." His eyes sought Dean's out, thinking the hunter would deny it or give him some sort of explanation, but instead he saw something else. Cold, stark determination. 

Spike flinched, then pulled himself together. "Is that what you think I am? A devil?" he sneered over the pain and disappointment. "And what do you plan to do with me, now that you have me?" Right, he could be tricky too. If Dean thought there was enough demon in Spike for this to work, then he'd let him have at it and see how far Dean would go.

"Not a devil. Your breed, it's a demon in that body," Dean said. He kicked a chair into the devil's trap. "Take a seat," he ordered. "The way I understand your kind, exorcism won't work. Your body is long dead, the soul gone." Oh how he wished an exorcism would work, would free the man from the demon. Then again, the man probably wouldn't want to have anything to do with Dean so that wouldn't earn him anything except a thank you if he was lucky. Dean knew it wasn't the man that had him under a spell but the demon. The demon who'd tended him, who'd helped rescue the boy and kill the goblins. He remembered the way Spike had bit into his shoulder while they were making love the first time. Why hadn't Spike fed from him then? Probably because Spike had wanted something else from him.

"Done your homework, have you?" Spike glanced at the chair and recognizing the power play, ignored it. Course there was the issue of what else Dean knew. From the look on his face, it would be nothing good.

"I know who you are now. William the Bloody. And I know how you got your name. Railroad spikes were your preferred murder weapon for a long time. You killed two slayers. Ravaged England and Europe and even the Far East. Then you worked your way here with Angelus and Drusilla." 

Dean finally forced himself to move closer, his machete strapped to his back. He could smell the hint of the cigarettes and felt his breath hitch. No, dammit. This was his job. He couldn't...he couldn't have what he wanted. It was the Winchester curse. Brief moments of happiness ending in horror and bloodshed of the ones they cared about. That's the way it was. Always the way it was. It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair. Life sucked that way.

Spike couldn't defend himself against history, so he let Dean speak on, turning around to keep him within his line of vision at all times. Could be his hopes of having anything with Dean had been crushed, but that didn't mean he would lower his guard. He knew first hand this man was dangerous... dangerous to people like himself. 

"There are a lot of things I don't get," Dean said as he circled the devil's trap, his gaze locked with the vampire's. He thought he'd remembered the shade of blue of Spike's eyes, but he was wrong. Those eyes were even more...beautiful...than he recalled. "You fell off the grid about fifteen years ago but sometimes there were long gaps in your records so maybe that's no surprise. But I don't get the way the kid trusted you, why you went after him. A debt maybe? Demons don't have honor but they do tend to keep their promises if it comes to a deal of some sort. The father trusted you too, said he called you in to help. Said the Slayer would kick my ass if you didn't, if I tried to take you down. It doesn't make sense."

"In your room, back in that one horse town, it wasn't human blood in the fridge. Yet now, eleven people have died, at least four have risen. Killed by your breed of vampire. Hellmouth vampires. Dracula-types. Eleven have died and you're here. Kinda a big coincidence you just happen to be in town when all this is going down. So what happened? Or was the animal blood just to get you through until you could get some real human blood to feed on again?" Dean stopped his restless pacing. He moved a few steps closer. One of the question he really want answered burned inside him. "And why did you let me live?"

"I like you, isn't it obvious?" He did like toying with Dean. Didn't know why, but pushing this man's buttons gave him a thrill, and thinking about angry sex with him thickened Spike's blood. Openly leering at him, Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out a flattened packet of cigarettes. As he lit up, he looked into eyes that were practically seething. "I don't. Drink human blood, that is. Unless the human I'm with begs prettily." His gaze lingered at Dean's throat for a moment, but he pulled it away. "Wooden stake would work better than that thing," he tossed out, pointing at the machete with his chin as he blew a ring of smoke out of his mouth.

"You liked me," Dean stated, feeling his blood begin to boil. "You were fucking toying with me. You knew I was a hunter. Bet you and your nest got your jollies laughing at the fucked up hunter who couldn't keep his god-damned hands off you even after I knew you were a blood-sucking vamp." 

The smell of the cigarettes in the air would always remind him of Spike now. Any bar, any place, when he smelled them, he knew the blond man would come to mind and it hurt. It fucking hurt. He watched those lips wrap around the filter and suck in deep, his traitorous cock twitching at the thought of those lips on him. The way Spike looked at his throat made his mind flash to the image of being buried balls deep in the man and the man drinking his blood as they fucked and just how screwed up was that? Wanting a fucking vamp to bite him, wanting to know how it felt in the heat of passion.

Dean gave a bark of laughter. "Don't drink human blood? Tell that to eleven families mourning the ones you took." He wanted answers, at least that's what he told himself, but what more was there to say? He slowly pulled the machete free of its sheath. "Beheading works just as well. With a stake, you have to drive it between the ribs and hope you hit the heart. I think I'll skip that since I'm a helluva lot better with blades than stakes."

"And they say _vampires_ have a blood fetish." He was pretty sure Dean didn't know that the sort of vampire he was dealing with would dust and not bleed. His gaze followed the blade, but he didn't move away. "Jumping to conclusions here, aren't you, mate?" He lifted his chin. "Right... tell me what you have. What is it that makes you bloody well think I killed them?" A dark thought crowded his mind and his lips curled into a cruel smile. "Or is this your excuse? I got you hot and hard, had you screaming my name, and you can't stand it. Is that it... all those voices in Dean Winchester's head will stop screaming if you end me?"

"I don't know, Spike," Dean snarled. "Maybe William the Bloody for starters? You hid your trail here, did a damned fine job of it. We," he shook his head, "we couldn't track you down. But when I spotted your car and Sam showed me what he'd dug up on you...what am I suppose to think?"

At Spike's smile Dean stepped a little closer, the machete down by his side. He knew exactly where the devil's trap was, exactly how close he could get without Spike being able to touch him. "I'm not the one who came running like a good little bitch when I called. And I seem to remember you shouting _my_ name in the back of my car." Dean's jaw muscles tightened and he said between gritted teeth. "And I'm not the one who left."

He was so close to Spike now he could smell him, could reach out and grab his shirt, yank him close, and kiss the hell out of him. He should have let Sam do this. He knew he should have. Seeing Spike again...he did not want to kill him, even...even if Spike had killed those eleven people. Fucked up. He was completely and utterly fucked in the head. He almost hadn't let the 'vegetarian' vampire Lenore go and here he was, wanting to let Spike walk, all for a little tail. _Liar._ that voice in his head told him. _You don't want to kill him because you love him..._

Emotion roiled off the hunter in waves. Spike was tempted to pull him inside the trap and hold him so tightly Dean wouldn't be able to move that weapon of his a quarter of an inch. Then he'd bloody well kiss him into submission and give him his history. But no, he wanted to see how far the hunter would go. Maybe he should be impressed Dean hadn't tried to dust him yet. Dropping the cigarette butt, he ground it under his boot.

"I'm not ashamed of that, I liked shouting your name, in the car... on a roof, in the shower, wherever you want. _Here._ " He let the word hang between them, taking a small step toward the edge of the trap and sticking his thumb into his belt. "No?"

At the lengthy silence, Spike continued. "I didn't kill anyone. Came here to kill them, same as you." The disbelief in Dean's eyes was met with his own anger. "Look mate, if the cops were to find you near the scene, you'd be told you murdered those people... got a record, must be true, yeah?" He took a stab in the dark knowing that many hunters had their brushes with the law. "The Slayer sent me. I tracked them, I killed them, and I was on my way back to L.A. when you gave me a ring. If you're not going to believe what I say, why are you wasting time asking?" 

Dean turned away from Spike, holding the machete so tightly his knuckles were white. Yeah, he remembered the ghost that tried to warn the husband and wife that their buddy the police officer was going to kill them just like he'd killed her. They'd found Dean at the scene of the wife's death, blood on his hands, and arrested him. It had happened to him more than once. But he had never killed an innocent...okay not counting the poor souls whose meatsuits were worn by demons. But Spike? William the Bloody? He'd spent a hundred years killing and suddenly turned all repentant? Hunting supernatural evil like Dean did?

His eyes challenging, Dean faced Spike once again. "So where was this nest of vampires you say you took out? And what about the guy that hasn't been buried yet? Is he gonna turn or rise, or whatever the hell you call it?"

"They were using the town's old museum. Place has been closed down, windows boarded for years. You won't find them there, just piles of dust." He frowned at Dean's question. "I didn't know there was another one. Fledglings are weak, clumsy. Best to wait at the grave site until they rise."

The museum...Dean knew the place. It was outside the radius but if you looked at the attacks more like a cone...it fucking pointed right to that building. More or less. 

There was another silence. "We done playing 'prisoner Spike' yet? You're not very original, you know. Xander me tied up to a chair for weeks once, then chained me in the tub. It would have been different with you, though." He moved closer, as close to Dean as he could get without crossing the invisible line. "You'd have liked it. Maybe that's the game we should play now, did you bring rope?" There was a challenge in Spike's eyes and in the way he tossed the words at Dean, wanting to provoke, wanting a reaction other than the business-like hunter he was faced with.

Spike tied up, Dean able to do with him as he pleased, do to him anything he pleased, crap, his cock was doing a little bit more than twitching now at those thoughts. He knew the lust touched his eyes. He wanted this man so bad he ached, and not just between his legs. He didn't understand why. No one had ever affected him like Spike. No one. Not even Cassie.

What if he broke the devil's trap? Would Spike bolt? Attack and tell him what a fool he'd been for believing the words of a demon? But Spike had come when he called and he wasn't there to hurt Dean, he was there for the sex. Fuck.

"Move the chair to the edge, and sit your ass down. Your back to me," Dean said as he headed over to the duffel that sat near the east wall. 

Spike knew the scent of arousal and didn't have to hear the edge in Dean's command to know what the hunter had in mind. He was tempted to let the man have his way, but he hadn't lived this long without learning caution. There were no guarantees Dean wouldn't take what he needed and kill him after.

He pushed the chair to the edge of the trap just as Dean walked back with handcuffs and rope in his hand. His eyes were burning hot and Spike thought he could catch fire just by looking into them. Dean's eyes cut to the chair, as if to silently command Spike again to sit down. "Impatient?" Spike asked quietly, chuckling.

A fraction of a second later, Spike crossed outside the edge of the trap, closed his hands around Dean's wrists and tugged him inside the trap and shoved him down into the chair. Though the hunter struggled and kicked him, Spike cuffed one of Dean's hands to the narrow armrest of the chair then moved to the other side and tied Dean's other wrist flush against the wood. Stepping back, he felt his cock twitch at the sight of the furious hunter. "Chair goes over and I'll be tying your ankles too," he warned.

Dean wasn't sure what thought went through his mind first. That the devil's trap didn't hold Spike, or that Spike was so damned fast and so damned strong. He was not going to be at the vampire's mercy. He shoved up with his legs and spun, using the chair to knock Spike to the ground. The impact made him he stagger but he kept his feet under him and headed for the wall, intent on slamming the chair into it until it splintered. 

Swearing, Spike sprang back up and grabbed the back of the chair, forcing its legs down onto the floor. "Warned you, yeah?" Stepping in front of Dean, Spike kicked Dean's legs apart and used one of his to trap Dean's leg against one of the legs of the chair. Holding him like that, he bent down and used the excess rope to tie Dean’s ankles to the chair legs. Leaning in, he licked his way up Dean's throat to his mouth, wincing when the furious hunter bit him, but making no complaint. Instead, he closed his mouth more firmly over Dean's, cupping his face and aggressively forcing his tongue inside Dean's mouth. 

The taste of blood, even his own, excited Spike. His blood, on his hunter, he couldn't think of anything more perfect. His kiss was rough and demanding, his tongue fucking Dean's mouth and leaving no doubt as to who was in control now. The sound of Dean's blood rushing faster through his veins, of his heart pounding against his chest, very quickly had Spike in knots. When he pulled away, he felt Dean's warm ragged breaths skim over his cheeks. "Don't deny it. You like it," he said, daring Dean to contradict him as he walked backwards to the duffel and rummaged inside.

Dean hadn't known what to expect when Spike finished tying him down but Spike licking up his throat wasn't it...unless it was to bury his fangs into Dean's neck. Still when Spike started to kiss him he lashed out the only way he could but that didn't stop Spike. Dean had to fight to hold back the groan as Spike ravaged his mouth but he couldn't stop himself from kissing the man back. He'd dreamed of kissing Spike again so many damned times, though him being tied up hadn't been in the game plan. No, in his dreams, Spike was the one tied up and ready. When Spike finally let him breathe again and made his accusation, Dean didn't say anything. What could he say?

He watched as Spike went through the bag. There were weapons of all sorts in there and he wondered if William the Bloody was going to show his true colors and torture Dean until he killed him. The last thing he expected was to see Spike pull out a bandana, look at it, then look up at Dean with an evil glint in his eye.

"Don't even think about it!" Dean snarled but there wasn't much he could do as Spike approached him, circled behind him, and blindfolded him. "God dammit, let me up!" Dean yelled at the vampire. He twisted his head back and forth, trying to locate the vampire by sound since he couldn't see a damned thing. "Spike..." Dean threatened. 

From behind Dean, Spike moved his mouth next to Dean's ear. "Shshsh. Must admit turnabout's fair play, yeah?" He ran his hands slowly down Dean's chest, palms pressing and skimming over chiseled muscles under a layer of cotton. "Do you know what I'd do if I were still William?" He felt Dean tense under his hands. "Why isn't your brother here? What made you think..." he kissed the shell of Dean's ear, "... that you could _handle_ me alone?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dean knew exactly what Spike would do as William the Bloody. His death would be long and torturous, until he begged the vampire to just do it, to kill him. And William wouldn't. He'd keep up the torture until pain and perhaps even fear overwhelmed Dean and then maybe, just maybe, he'd finally kill Dean. Or worse, turn him.

Dean was silent for a long time. He let Spike read into that silence anything he wanted. What did it matter? He had no idea what Spike had in mind for him but he wasn't at all certain he would be walking out of here. 

"I wouldn't let Sam come," he finally said. Sam wanted to at least be nearby, but they couldn't risk Spike catching his scent and Dean had refused. He thought he had it all under control. Spike. Himself. The situation. _He will kick your ass, I don't care how good you think you are._ Xander Harris' voice echoed in his mind. Dean was arrogant and he knew it. He had to have that confidence to pull the hustles he pulled, to lie to any authority figure, any civvie, anyone, and convince them he was whoever he needed to be at that moment. He had to be arrogant enough to have faith that he could take down any mean mother-fucker he faced. Sometimes that arrogance bit him in the ass. Like now.

"This was on me, something I had to do, alone." There were a lot of reasons he hadn't wanted his brother there, reasons he would never tell Sam. Licking his lips, Dean said matter of factly, "And I sure as hell didn't expect you to be able to get out of the devil's trap. How...?"

Spike's gaze clung to Dean's lips, the sight of his wet tongue sweeping across them making him want to take Dean's mouth all over again. "Didn't do enough research." Picking up a silver dagger, he brought it to Dean's throat, letting him feel the cool metal, then used the pointed tip to cut down the length of his tee shirt. Dropping the weapon, he used his hands to rip the material all the way down.

Dean's breath caught when he felt the metal edge against his throat. He relaxed only a little when the blade shifted away and he felt his t-shirt being cut open. The sudden exposure made his gut clench, wondering if he was going to feel the blade buried in his gut or maybe long shallow cuts along his chest. If Spike was still William, he would do that or worse. 

Seeing Dean's stomach muscles tense, so did Spike's. "You're bloody gorgeous. Right... where were we? The trap doesn't work on me because I have a soul. Went through hell to get it so it best be useful for something. Give me your tongue."

"You have a soul?" Dean lifted his head as if he could see Spike, shocked by the news. There should just be the demon, but if Spike had a soul... "That's it. That's when you stopped drinking human blood? When you got yourself a human soul?" Dean asked, wondering if Spike having a soul changed anything, made him something...not evil. He had never wondered before if any of the evil he killed had a soul, but now he did. Dammit. What the hell was it about vampires? They put into question everything, shook his beliefs to their foundations again and again. They weren't real. Then they were real, but close to extinction. Crosses, stakes, sunlight, all that could do them in. Then they weren't like the lore, none of that bothered them. They were just evil animals. Then they loved one another, even mating for life. Some weren't evil, like Lenore and her nest hadn't been. Now, some were like the legends. And now they fucking had souls, too? It made his head hurt.

"Not quite, that was a bit earlier. Your tongue." He leaned in and ran his hands down Dean's bare chest, and brought one back up to cup the side of his throat and push his face to the side. "Soddin' hell, give me your tongue," he nearly growled. The instant Dean's tongue peeked out, Spike was on it. He sucked it into his mouth, kissing Dean hard as his hands possessively roamed over his body. This was what he'd wanted, been waiting for. His mouth against Dean's, Dean's taste, his scent in his nostrils, his hitched breaths sounding in his ears and sending Spike's lust into overdrive. Everything he wanted these days, but probably would never have again. So he'd take this moment and everything he could wring from it.

Dean could feel the way Spike wanted him, the way he kissed him, the way he caressed him. Denying his own needs was pointless he decided. If this was it, if Spike or William or whoever the hell he was going to kill him, then he damned well would make it a night worth dying for. He would take every pleasure Spike gave him and do the same for the vampire. He returned Spike's aggression and moaned into Spike's mouth, tugging uselessly at the unrelenting bindings. Dammit, he wanted to touch the vampire, to caress his hard body, to fuck him, or even be fucked by him. He didn't care, so long as they were in each other's arms this final night.

"Lemme go. Wanna touch you," Dean murmured when Spike gave him a moment's rest to catch his breath.

"Want you to touch me," Spike echoed, face buried in Dean's throat as he played his body like an instrument. One hand stroked Dean's belly, threatening to go lower, while with the other, he played with Dean's nipples until they were tight buds under his thumb. He loved how responsive Dean was, how his body thrashed toward his touch. He slid his hand lower, squeezing Dean's cock through his jeans, a sound breaking from him as Dean's cock immediately thickened. A similar groan escaped Dean.

"Yes," Dean whispered. "More..." 

Kissing Dean one more time, he pulled away and, on his knees, walked around the chair to face Dean. Scooting in between Dean's open thighs, he dipped his head down and started to kiss Dean's stomach, sucking that tight flesh stretched over muscle into his mouth. "Mmm..." he made his way up and down Dean's chest, sure he'd never tire of the taste of this man.

Dean's stomach jerked back the moment he felt Spike's mouth on his abs but when he was confident it was only Spike's mouth and not that cold blade he arched and groaned under Spike's skillful attention. His cock ached to be touched again. His one hand that was merely cuffed allowed him to just barely touch Spike, outstretched fingers brushing over the fabric of the tight black t-shirt instead of the flesh he so wanted to feel under his fingers. That tease might have been worse than not touching Spike at all because it made him that much more needy and desperate.

Slowly, Spike's hand wandered lower again, over Dean's trapped cock. He squeezed and alternatively pressed the heel of his hand rhythmically. The urge to fuck was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, but he tried to keep his head, he needed it if Dean had more tricks up his sleeve.

The groans spilled out of Dean's mouth as Spike's constant pressure on and off his cock had his hips bucking. Dammit why did he have to wear such tight jeans? Between the hand fucking and Spike's mouth wandering over him, his cock was beginning to hurt, trapped as it was. Since it was all too obvious Spike had no intention of releasing him, and he had to admit he was surprised that being at Spike's mercy was kind of a turn on--assuming Spike didn't kill him of course-- he wanted more. He didn't just want more, he needed more. At that moment he needed Spike almost as much as he needed breathe.

"Eyehook," Dean gasped. "Ceiling, old chandelier hung there. Better," he practically lost his train of thought when Spike's mouth latched onto his nipple. "Ungh," he moaned. "Keys...oh fuck, Spike," he said bucking again at Spike's touch. "Keys to cuffs, in duffel. Please," he begged. If he couldn't touch Spike then he least wanted Spike to touch him. Everywhere.

Raising his head, Spike watched intently as Dean moved his head from side to side, begging and tugging at his bindings. Did he have any idea how much it turned Spike on? Just knowing Dean wasn't used to asking, that if he were free he'd probably punch him and try to get the upper hand, it filled Spike with a sense of power... the same power that Dean had over him. Each of them could drive the other to do things they would never do.

Using his knuckles, he traced the outline of Dean's mouth, then cheek, one finger sliding over the red bandanna covering Dean's eyes. Yeah, he would like Dean hanging from the light fixture with no chair in the way. Then he could touch him, have him any way he wanted. The image in his mind had his cock straining against his zipper and wanting out. He leaned in and whispered, "All right pet, but you try one of your hunter's tricks on me and you will meet William."

Spike's touch had Dean pulling away a little. God dammit he hated he couldn't see. He didn't like surprises. Never had. With Spike's threat Dean growled, his desires curbed a fraction at the reminder Spike held him prisoner but he gave a curt nod. "Yeah. No tricks," he said, his voice thick but sounding more like the hunter Dean Winchester, than the "I need you to fuck me" man who was writhing under Spike's attentions.

Dean knew the chandelier would hold his weight. He'd tested it earlier, telling himself it was just to make sure the thing wouldn't come tumbling down on him at an inopportune moment. He sure as hell refused to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, he'd done it to see if it would hold Spike's weight. The chandelier was on a chain and while it swung, it didn't have any sort of give in it. It was solid as hell in that ceiling.

He might have sounded like a hunter-held-prisoner, but Spike's warning was already fading right along with his will power. With desire coursing through Dean the only tricks he wanted to offer up was to rip off the bandanna and tackle Spike to the ground, maybe a few punches thrown in for good measure, but after that he would take Spike just like he had in the dreams he awoke from with a hard on from hell.

It might be stupid to keep throwing his history into the hunter's face, but Spike thought now that Dean knew, there would be no unringing that bell, no second chances. He wasn't like the scoobs, most hunters weren't. They were intractable in their convictions and Dean wasn't an exception. The fact that he'd fucked a vampire, any vampire, had him confused and ate him up on the inside... it was why he'd never called. And now... now that he knew how many Spike had killed... right, there was no coming back from that. Ever. So he might as well use his reputation to keep Dean in line, and a bit of fear could only enhance Dean's sense of powerlessness and allow the hunter a new experience, whether he wanted it or not.

Spike checked the chandelier, making certain it was as solid as Dean said and would not come down and set the hunter free. A few moments later, Spike easily dragged Dean and the chair under the wrought iron chandelier and cut Dean's legs and arm free of the rope. He told Dean to get up and moved the blade of the knife over his body, bringing it to his throat, to his back and to his belly, showing him the speed with which he could act if necessary. When he thought his message got through, he uncuffed the bracelet around the arm rest, pulled it up along with Dean's arm, and threaded it through the eyelet in the chandelier. 

Dean didn't fight him on it. He still felt the lingering chill of that blade. 

Cuffing Dean's other wrist, Spike stepped back and kicked the chair across the room, where it broke against the wall. "I could get off just watching you," he said, touching himself through his pants, squeezing his cock. A moan broke out of him, and he didn't try to hide it. "Fucking hell..." How could he want someone so bad? Someone who wanted to kill him? Right... he'd always been love's bitch and his choices had never made much sense.

Dean's arms were stretched above his head, but not so taut that he didn't have his full weight on the ground. They were stretched enough that he didn't have a lot of leverage and he knew how badly the cuffs would bite into his wrist if he put all his weight onto them to kick at Spike. Even if he landed a kick or two there was really nothing he could do. He couldn't get to his lock picks in his sleeves, though he could probably pull up his legs long enough to try to get one out of his pants cuff. Maybe. But Spike had made it clear what he could do to Dean and how fast he could do it. After having read over some of the things William had done to his victims he wasn't anxious to meet that side of the vampire but a part of him said Spike would never hurt him that way, not unless Dean threatened his life...which, Dean thought to himself, he had. Fuck.

"If you'd take off this fucking blindfold, maybe I could say the same," Dean said, trying to brush the bandanna against his biceps to get it off, but Spike had it tied too tightly. "What the hell are you waiting for?" he demanded. Shifting his hips, he tried to ease the tightness of his jeans over his groin. He really wasn't sure what he wanted. Spike to be the bastard vampire from the history books and prove Dean had to kill him if given the chance, or for Spike to prove him wrong and be the lover that he had been in the cabin, in the Impala, in the dreams that drove him crazy with need and had kept him celibate these last months because no one else would do.

"Not waiting, I've started," Spike groaned again, one hand working his cock, the other undoing his belt buckle. "I'm so bloody hard. Fuck..." The jerky movements Dean made drove Spike's lust up. He deliberately made more noise, with his buckle and zipper and his groans, making sure Dean knew one of them was getting some self made action. 

He could tell the hunter was getting pissed off and frustrated. He'd bet that if he could see Dean's eyes, they would be filled with fury. "Don't like to be toyed with? Isn't that what you had in mind for me?" he asked, stepping closer and moaning softly.

"You've toyed with me since we met," Dean snapped. Knowing Spike was stroking himself, the sounds he heard made him even crazier with need. He wanted to see Spike jacking himself off and wanted to see the lust in Spike's eyes as his gaze raked over Dean's body. 

Inches separated their bodies. Spike leaned in, slanted his mouth over Dean's and kissed him with excruciating slowness, refusing to engage in the rougher tongue play the hunter had gotten used to. Reaching up, he ran his hands up and down Dean's arms as they kissed, feeling his muscles strain and bunch, knowing if Dean's arms were free, they would be around him like steel bands about now. "Missed your taste," he muttered, still refusing to give in to his own desire, moving his mouth lightly over the hunter's and teasing him with his tongue.

Although he couldn't feel Spike's body heat since Spike's temperature was the same as the night around them, he could feel Spike's presence. Spike's lips pressed so gently against his, like that final kiss in the car, that Dean backed off on his attempt to control the kiss, letting Spike make slow love to his mouth. He knew Spike was probably standing on the balls of his feet to reach Dean and so he bent his head down to make it easier for Spike because he wanted this so damned badly.

He wanted to feel the press of Spike's body against his, especially as the vampire's touch wandered over his arms. It was going to hurt, it was fucking going to hurt, but no worse that he hurt now, just in a different way. He tightened his muscles in his arms and pushed off the floor, wrapping his legs around Spike's thighs, pulling him tight against him. The metal cuffs dug painfully into the flesh around his wrists but he didn't care. Spike's hard muscular body was pressed against him and he rubbed against Spike, groaning as he finally got some pressure on his hard cock. Most importantly, it was _Spike's_ body that was giving him that pressure. Spike's surprise allowed him to take over the kiss, to shove his tongue deep into Spike's mouth and explore rather than have their tongues at war with one another. He ignored the agony in his wrists as he pressed himself against the vampire.

This was what Spike loved about Dean. The man never gave up, not fully. The way Dean's tongue was invading his mouth and asserting control left Spike dizzy. Moaning against Dean's mouth, he cupped Dean's ass and held him up, making it easier for Dean to fuck up against him. With each slide of Dean's hard cock over his own and against his stomach, need curled tighter low in Spike's belly. It didn't matter to him which of them was the bitch... maybe both were to the feelings that seemed to take over when they stood close. 

Spike lost track of time. All he knew was the powerful sensations crashing over him each time he lifted Dean and Dean clenched his legs around him, making sure they came into hard contact. The hunter's ragged breaths filled the air, the scent of arousal teasing Spike, pushing him. Rocking his pelvis up one last time, Spike pulled away from the kiss, and licked his lips still wet with Dean. 

"Want you to ride my cock," he said. Dean's legs didn't loosen from around him. Spike suddenly slapped Dean's ass hard, groaning at the way Dean jerked against him in shock. It did the trick and he was free. Walking behind Dean and pushing his own jeans down to his thighs, Spike wrapped one arm around Dean's waist and pulled him flush against his hard cock now pressing into Dean's jean clad ass. Yanking Dean's torn shirt off, Spike kissed along Dean's shoulder and throat, licking and scraping his teeth against smooth skin, moving his mouth frantically as if he couldn't get enough. With his free hand, he cupped Dean's cock and held him like that for a moment, before he unbuttoned Dean's jeans and unzipped him. Shoving his hand into the opening, he closed his fingers around Dean's hot hard flesh, squeezing and stroking him... owning him.

Dean suspected he was going to have Spike's handprint on his ass for a few days to come. Son of a bitch that hurt but at the same time, he was shocked to discover...he kinda liked it. Straining to hear where Spike was, he suddenly he felt Spike's muscular arm pull him close and felt the hard cock pressed against his ass. He twitched at first contact but moaned as he felt the vampire's mouth at his neck, admittedly relieved to feel only human teeth dragging across his skin. Dean was about to ask what made Spike think there was any way in hell he was going to ride his cock when the pressure of his jeans finally eased and Spike's hand closed around his member. His head fell back and he made sounds he wasn't sure he had ever heard himself make. Hell, a tape of those sounds would win him top spot in any porno movie he had ever watched. He was even more amazed when words spilled from his lips that he couldn't help.

"Fuck me," he breathed.

Because Dean had been so reluctant to take it up the arse before, his quiet plea meant much more to Spike. Still stroking Dean's cock, and hardly moving back, Spike pulled one side of Dean's jeans down then switched hands, and pulled the other side down. The instant his leaking cock pressed into Dean's hard ass cheek, Spike groaned and shifted his hips so he was sliding up and down the cleft of the hunter's arse. 

The feel of Spike's cock so close to his hole and feeling the slick precum wet his ass cheeks was almost more than Dean could stand. It had been a long time since he had let anyone fuck him, and he had never asked for it before. It was usually a long conversation with his male lover wheedling and begging and promising the things he would do for Dean if Dean just let him fuck him. So he had. It had been okay but he didn't like his lack of control or the way it made him feel vulnerable. He had probably bottomed five maybe six times, and all of those before he was twenty-one. But now he wanted it with Spike and that was just all kinds of crazy. 

As Dean pushed back against him, Spike gave a choked, "hold on, now." Every cell in his body screamed for it, for Spike to push inside Dean's tight, probably virgin, hole. His vampiric instincts were worse, telling him he could take what he wanted. It was his right to prey on that which tried to prey on him. It took everything he had to hang on to the last shreds of his control and reach back to his pocket. He'd brought lube for his 'date.' 

Despite Dean's protests, he lubed Dean's hole, pushing some of the lube inside him. He lubed his own cock, and the hand he was stroking Dean with, then aligned his cock. Gripping Dean's hip to hold him still, Spike rubbed his tip against his puckered hole, groaning at the thought of pushing inside. His hand glided over Dean's cock, faster, harder, wanting him in a complete state of need before he pushed inside. "So bloody hot, Dean. So damned sexy when you can't move." Seeking out Dean's mouth, he managed a sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue inside the corner of Dean's mouth. The waiting was sweet, sharp torture, but Spike wouldn't have it any other way. Dean was right, he did like toying with Dean, but he was equally ready to be toyed with or to force himself to wait.

Spike had been working Dean's cock before but once he lubed that hand it had Dean jerking and thrusting but not enough to bring him off. He's start to get close and then Spike would just squeeze it or run his thumb around the rim of his crown, waiting until Dean had calmed down just enough that he could start working him into a frenzy again. He pulled at his cuffs, letting out sounds of frustration. He felt Spike at his hole ready to enter him. 

"Come on vampire, show me what you got," he panted out, taunting Spike. Probably stupid because his ass was all but virgin at this point and if Spike shoved all the way in one shot, it was gonna hurt like a bitch.

Sensing he'd brought Dean to the edge and back enough, Spike growled his agreement. He was long past the point of desperation himself and had been hanging on by a thin thread. The challenge pushed him over the edge.

He managed to slow himself down until he worked his crown inside, just past Dean's tight ring of muscle. But that was it, need for this man broke him. Muttering an apology, he wrapped his arm around Dean and entered him with one solid thrust, sinking so deep inside him that Spike's hips were flush against Dean's ass. Dean's satin heat clenched around his aching cock. "So tight," he said, shuddering with the agony as he held absolutely still, fighting the need to piston inside Dean, to fuck him mercilessly until he got what he needed. 

The pressure had Dean wincing, his breath hitching, as he felt the slow penetration stretch him open so wide he was very glad Spike had lubed him despite his complaints. He released a breath when he felt Spike's crown make it fully inside him. Spike's apology sent a flash of concern through him that maybe Spike was going to kill him. That concern was gone when blinding white light filled his vision as pain shot through him at suddenly being filled. A grunt of pain escaped him at the sudden invasion but feeling Spike's body pressed up against him, he knew Spike was fully inside.

Dean expected the vampire to just go at it, but just as he had given Spike a chance to adjust to him when he'd fucked the vampire, Spike was giving Dean's body a chance to adjust. It hurt. It burned. He felt like he was practically split in two. It took everything in him to try to relax and not clench against the pain. It seemed like an eternity for his body to adjust and he could feel Spike's tension and need. Spike had waited long enough.

Although he was still panting a bit Dean gave a nod. "Give it to me," he told Spike.

 _Give it to me_. The words echoed in Spike's brain, triggering an immediate physical response he would have fought if he'd been prepared of it. Twisting his hips in a circular motion once, he pulled out and drove his cock back inside Dean's hot tight channel, groaning with pleasure and pain. If it was possible, he felt himself getting harder, his cock pushing against Dean's walls. With a groan of desperation, Spike started to thrust, a few shallow strokes, and then he was fucking Dean like he needed, no holds barred. He angled his hips to make sure he stimulated Dean's prostate, cursing the first time Dean clenched tight around him and shuddered.

He expected the pain as Spike began thrusting into him but when Spike hit his prostate he let out a groan as his whole body shook with pleasure. Pain/pleasure/pain/pleasure teeter-tottered inside him until pleasure won out, his body adjusted to the hard thrusts.

"Fuck... oh fuck," Spike grunted, bending his knees more and pulling Dean down. "So bleeding hard for you. Ride me now, ride me," he said through gritted teeth, lifting Dean up and letting gravity do the work of impaling him on his cock. The sound of skin slipping against skin, of grunts and labored breaths, and of Dean's precum leaking into his hand took Spike higher and higher until he was fucking at a fevered pitch.

Dean was lost in his own pleasure filled world but heard Spike's demands and gave Spike everything he could. He vaguely felt one cuff finally cut flesh and felt liquid trickle down his arm. The lovemaking far outweighed the pain caused by the wound.  
"Harder," Dean demanded, even though he knew he would probably walk gingerly for a week as it was. Spike's hand on his cock matched the pace of Spike pistoning into him and Dean could feel how close he was. 

"Yeah, fuck yeah," Dean said as Spike gave him more. His balls tightened suddenly and ropes of cum spewed from his cock. Dean cried out the vampire's name as his whole body froze momentarily, then he shuddered at the exquisite pleasure with a moan.

Dean's explosive cry pushed Spike over the edge. He rocked into Dean with almost violent thrusts, groaning as Dean clenched around him. His balls pressed painfully hard against his body, the need for release riding him like a bitch. As white hot heat inched through his veins, Spike drove into Dean, gave a grunt, and drove into him one more time, hard enough to move both of them forward a few steps. "Sodding hell ...Dean!" His entire body shuddered as he came hot and hard, filling Dean's channel. "Dean..." he whispered, grinding into him much more slowly.

The scent of sex with Dean was intoxicating to Spike. Maybe it was a validation of what was between them, that spark that Dean would never accept. He breathed deeply, half lidded eyes opening as he detected a new smell in the mix. Sweet, metallic... Dean? He looked up and saw a narrow rivulet of blood traveling down Dean's arm. Need, a different kind, slammed into him so hard it was like an unexpected kick in the stomach. 

He ran a hand over Dean's chest, soothing him, kissing his ear, but always, his attention went back to that which he couldn't ignore. The man already hated him, what difference would it make? Justifying it that way, he moved one hand over Dean's mouth, not wanting to hear the bitter words when they came, and lifted his own face up, tongue lapping at the small quantity of blood streaming down. Groaning, he felt himself go hard inside Dean. Fuck... Reaching up, he broke the cuff around Dean's wrist. Suddenly Dean felt a bit heavier, even though one arm was still suspended in the air as the broken cuff had caught on the eyelet. Still making sure Dean couldn't say a word, Spike fucked him with short shallow thrusts as he licked the blood off Dean's arm and came hard inside him again. 

Slowly, he pulled out of Dean's body. "Don't say a word," he whispered, pulling his tee shirt off and cleaning both of them. He pulled his pants up, zipped himself up and buckled his belt. 

Gently, he drew Dean's pants up too, and fastened them around his waist. "Don't come after me again. I'm not one of the things you hunt, not anymore." His throat closed up on him, eyes stinging and making him glad the bandanna was still covering Dean's eyes. Slanting his mouth over the hunter's, he kissed him, his tongue sweeping over ever corner of dean's mouth one last time. "I wish--"

A cell phone rang, interrupting him. 

Spike walked across the room and returned with it, putting it into Dean's free hand. He squeezed the hunter's hand lightly, then strode out of the house, letting the door bang shut behind him. Wishes were for fools and he wasn't about to play a fool. Right, and how many times had he played one in the name of love? Pulling the car door shut, he started the car and took off.

* 

Dean had stayed silent, even after Spike had removed his hand from covering his mouth though he'd initially feared Spike was going to keep that hand over his mouth and squeeze his nose shut to suffocate him. He was panting so hard it was an effort to draw in enough air through his nose to soothe his body's needs. Then his arm was down and he'd felt Spike's tongue on his arm and realized what was happening. He hadn't expect the vampire to go hard just like that from the taste of his blood and to fuck him again. The thrusts were gentle enough--comparatively--and Dean was so stretched and slick from Spike's cum that it hadn't hurt at all. He'd kept waiting for the bite that never came.

Spike's hands had been gentle on him again as he cleaned him free of the cum dripping from his ass. and the lube. He was even more surprised when Spike essentially re-dressed him.

He desperately wanted to know what Spike's wish was that he was beginning to tell him, then his damned phone rang. That would be Sam checking up on him, wanting to know how he was doing, if Spike was dead. When he heard Spike walk away again after giving him his phone, he did not expect to hear the banging of the door and almost called out to the vampire to wait just a god-damned minute. The coward! The fucking coward!

Dean hit the answer button on his phone before it went to voice mail. "Yeah?"

"Dean?" It was his brother. "How--"

"I'm fine Sam. I'll call you back. Got to do a few things." Dean kept his voice matter of fact and business as usual, though it was anything but.

"Dean! Wait a--"

Dean hit the end call button and slid the phone into his pocket. He undid the knot on the bandanna and pulled it away from his eyes, blinking at the light. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, not really, other than the after sex haze that made him want to sleep, and the anger, no, the _fury_ that Spike walked out on him again. He knew he had self worth issues, no argument there, but he decided Spike beat him out hands down. Still, why shouldn't he just leave? He was clearly concerned Dean was going to try to come after him and kill him. Dean had lured him here to do just that after all. He still didn't know if he really could have gone through with it.

Looking up he saw the broken cuff and worked it through the eyelet and brought his arm down with a wince. His shoulders ached, his ass ached, hell, even his tongue ached. He was moving on autopilot at this point. He spotted the key to the cuff and while he could have picked the cuff, the key was easier. As he bent over to retrieve the key, his aching ass complained and he groaned softly. Letting the cuff fall to the floor, he tossed the now useless key aside as well.

The cut on his arm was still bleeding a little and he brought it to his mouth and sucked on it a minute as he gathered the silver knife and dropped machete and put them in his duffel, sheathing each of them.

Spike left him again. That thought just kept running around in his brain, even though it was surely the sensible thing for Spike to do. Was Spike still William the Bloody? No. No, Dean was pretty certain he wasn't. What Spike told him about the museum, he believed. There was still the possibility of one more vamp rising and he suspected Spike wouldn't be around to take care of it. Dean and Sam would have to.

Spike left him.

"Dammit, shut up already," he growled to himself as he limped over to where he had concealed a blanket...in case he did believe Spike and let him go. Or in case he let him go anyhow. He'd wanted something they could lay on...

The tears spilled down his cheeks. Fuck. Dammit. He was so fucking pathetic. What now? Try to find Spike? Spike was obviously hanging out with this Slayer chick and he could probably find Spike through her or the Harris guy. Forget Spike? Move on? Cause, yeah, that had worked so well for him the past four months. 

Taking his things out to the Impala he tossed the duffel in the trunk, taking the time to slap a bandage on his wrist even though it had pretty much stopped bleeding at this point. Yeah and when Sam asked about the bruising around his wrists, the way he was probably going to be walking funny and the cut, well, hell, if the boy genius couldn't figure it out for himself, too bad.

Sliding in behind the wheel he dug out his keys and started up his baby, taking a moment to listen to her growl and letting the engine warm up until the RPMs dropped a bit. He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. What the hell was he going to do?

He was going to wipe away his tears, stop acting like a lovesick puppy and get on with the family business. He was going to suck it up and put Spike out of his mind.

_Yeah. Sure._

He wiped away his tears and floored the gas, the tires throwing gravel as he sped away from that house. He cranked the music but just couldn't bring himself to sing along and suddenly realized it was one of his dad's favorite tapes. He turned it off, ejected it, and lobbed it out the window. Yeah, Dad was gone but he could still feel his disapproval. In love with a vampire. There, he said it, even if only in his head. He was in love with Spike. How the hell could that be? He barely knew the fucker.

The Impala was racing down the back country road and Dean almost didn't see Spike's car pulled off to the side of the road or the glowing ember of the cigarette. He slammed on his brakes, laying skid marks on the pavement, and wheeled the car around. He pulled the car off the side of the road, blocking Spike's car from moving unless he backed it up first.  
Throwing open the door he stalked up to Spike and without warning punched him across the jaw. "You god damned sonuvabitch!"

Spike reeled back from the blow, staggering to regain his balance. Cocking his head to one side, he rubbed his jaw. "What comes next, hunter? Holy water? Crosses? Stakes? Bring it," he snarled, lunging at Dean, grabbing him by his jacket and throwing him across the front of his car. Before Dean rolled off, Spike was leaning over him. "You shagged a vampire and you liked it. You wanted it," he said distinctly. "Killing me won't change a thing because it's in here," he pressed his finger against Dean's forehead, "and maybe here, if there's anything there," he said, this time jabbing Dean's chest right over his heart. "So you can tell your lies, say you killed the 'big bad vampire' who forced you ... took advantage of you... use it to impress whoever it is you need to. Your brother? Father? Hunter friends? Maybe yourself, but in the cold of the night, you _will_ know the truth."

"I know the fucking truth!" Dean snarled back, pulling his knees in and slamming both feet into Spike's gut, sending him backwards onto the hood of the Impala. He slid off Spike's car and stalked forward. Grabbing Spike's shirt he pulled him forward and punched him in the face. "You're a coward! You ran four months ago, just like you're running now. _You_ can't get _me_ out of your head but you can't face the fact you might love a hunter!"

Spike's head snapped back under the force of the punch. Growling with anger, he instinctively reached out and closed his hands around Dean's throat, thumbs pressing down and threatening to close his wind pipe. Then his words sank in and made no sense to the vampire. "You're off your rocker, mate." He paused. "I didn't _run_ , there's nothing to run from. You made it crystal clear how you felt four months ago. I gave you my number, and when did you call? When you thought you could finish me with your games," he sneered. "So tell me why I should have stayed to hear you railing about things I can't change?"

Spike's hands eased on his throat and while all sorts of alarms should have been going off in his head about just how fucking stupid this was, no weapons, hand to hand against a man with three or ten or what the hell ever the strength of Dean and he still couldn't stop himself. He stared into those blue eyes, his fingers wrapped in the fresh t-shirt Spike had put on. "You were gone in the morning! You didn't give me a chance to sort out a damned thing! You're a vampire, you're what I hunt! And me fucking you in the back of my car, that made it crystal clear did it? I knew what you were and still I made love to you. But you left. Just left!" Dean felt the angry tears on his cheeks. "And I see you here, find out your history, and yeah I called you, got you there. You think if I simply wanted you dead I wouldn't have killed you right off? Had Sam there to help? Hunters don't live long if they talk to their prey."

He slammed his palms into Spike's arms forcing Spike to let go of the grip around his neck. He straightened and felt the slight wind caress his chest. He hadn't bothered to put on a new shirt yet and his was still ripped open. He turned from Spike, his head bowed. "Just...get the hell off my car," Dean said. He should get in his car and go but found himself rooted to the spot. He didn't want to leave, not like this.

It was deathly quiet as Spike processed not only Dean's accusations, but tried to understand the things he _didn't_ say. The things Spike had only allowed himself to hope for when he'd received Dean's phone call. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "At the car... I goaded you into it. Didn't think you were 'making love,' Dean. Thought you were 'punishing' or couldn't help it... the chemistry. Doesn't mean you accept it or can deal with it, yeah?" Spike resisted the urge to wipe away the tears that glittered on Dean's cheek, or even to force him to turn and face him fully. "I left you my number in case you could come to ..." he shrugged. "At least miss me a little." He wasn't going to put his hopes out there, not yet. 

Dean sniffed, trying to gather himself. He was crying like a fucking girl. "No one goads me into sex. Ever. Course it doesn't usually take much to get me interested," he admitted frankly. "With you, I coulda just pulled my gun and blown your head off." He gave a soft bitter laugh. "Chemistry...I haven't had chemistry with someone since Cassie. Not really. Had some good fucks that I wouldn't mind revisiting, but there's never been someone...not since Cass threw me out for being a lunatic talking about monsters and hunting." He shook his head. "Then you come along. A vampire. Hunting for a friend's missing kid. Anything I tried to get out of your friend about you he pretty much deflected and told me to keep the fuck away from you. I never looked you up, research wise. Most vamps aren't in the history books. Never ran into hellmouth-vamps before either. Dad told us vamps weren't like the lore. Said they were extinct, or damned near. He was wrong. Ran into one nest that were "vegetarians", only drank cow's blood. I didn't want to let the leader bitch live. Supernatural means evil. Always had. Until then. That took a while for me to deal with, wondering if I'd killed other things that didn't deserve killing. Not human, but not evil. That didn't fit into the world view I'd been brought up with. You don't fit the worldview I've been brought up with."

Dean heaved a sigh and turned to face Spike. "I don't know what to do about you. I haven't...I haven't got laid since that last night with you in the Impala. You were right. You got under my skin. You got inside me and no one else," he gave a one shouldered shrug, "no one else was good enough. No one else could do it for me."

Tentatively he reached out and touched Spike's face, running his fingers slowly along his high cheekbones. "I'm still confused as hell. I don't even know you but...I want to. I don't get what's between us. So...is now the time you laugh your ass off at me, tell me how fucked up I am, that there's nothing...nothing you want from me other than the occasional good lay? Tell me, Spike. What am I to you?"  
"You’re like the song I carry around with me inside here,” Spike slammed his closed fist against his own chest. “But it's playing in a pitch so high, I’ll never get to hear it. Like the holy grail I’ve chased after and found, only you’re sealed behind thick church doors and sitting in a pool of holy water I can never cross. A mirage I can reach for all I want, but never touch, not really.” Spike swallowed and pressed his cheek against Dean’s fingers. “The most I can realistically expect is that I’m the ‘dirt’ you want to roll in once in a while. Doesn’t stop me from _wanting_ to hear the song or touch the grail. _Love’s bitch_ , it’s what someone brilliant called me once. It’s what I am. Does that answer your question, hunter?” 

He was afraid of Dean's answer, as afraid as he'd been at the farmhouse when he'd prevented Dean from giving his true reaction when in a moment of weakness he had succumbed to his vampiric desires and taken Dean's blood.

"You're not 'dirt.'" Dean said, anger threading his words. "You're not 'not good enough’." Dean's voice softened. "You say you gave up human blood before ever getting your soul back. That says something about you. Says a lot." Dean pulled Spike into his arms. "I'm no song unless it's written by AC/DC or something. Or maybe Black Sabbath's Heaven and Hell. I'm sure as hell no 'holy grail.' I'm not a mirage either, because you touched me." Dean smirked. "Damned near everywhere."

He lifted Spike's chin with two fingers so he could look into the man's eyes. "Still doesn't mean I'm not confused as hell. My dad, God, he'd rip me a new one twice over." After a long pause he found Sam's words on his lips. "But Dad's gone. I don't always make good choices. I live on the road, credit card scams, hustle pool, whatever it takes to pay for fleabag motels and ammunition and food. I hunt evil, try to save people. My car and my brother, that's all I've got. I've never really wanted anything else, except maybe Cassie. But she's history. Long past. But now? I want you."

Dean leaned in and kissed Spike long and slow, caressing his back and holding him close like he never wanted to go.

As they kissed, Dean's words reverberated in the vampire's mind. _I want you._ Over and over, words he'd thought he might never hear from this man outside of bed. When Dean finally broke the kiss, neither one loosened his hold on the other.

"So help me, if this is the part you laugh your arse off and tell me it’s all a lie, that you're pulling one over on me, I will..." Spike's hold tightened around Dean, though he knew it wasn't what he was dealing with right now. He leaned in and crushed his mouth against the hunter's, kissing him hungrily, possessively, showing him that he wanted him body and soul. "We'll figure out the 'how' later. I'm yours, however and whenever you want me."

Spike's demanding kiss had Dean responding just as readily, claiming Spike as Spike did him. When Spike finally let him breathe Dean grinned at him. "One, you may not need to breathe, but I do. Two, you did say you'd make a helluva a wife and I wanna see if that's true. C'mon, follow me back to the motel. I'll make sure Sam doesn't stake you when you walk in the door."

Spike started to head for his car when he changed his mind and grabbed Dean's arm from behind, stopping him. "Hold on a moment." Though he'd been smiling earlier, Spike was deadly serious now. "You kill monsters. It's not only what you do, it defines you." This was probably the most foolish thing he'd ever done, and it certainly wasn't a 'play to win' tactic. "Don't argue, yeah? It's true, and you're fighting that part of yourself every time you look at me. Maybe you'll get over it sometime, or maybe seeing my 'game face' will make that impossible. Best we find out now." 

Dean frowned at Spike's words. He knew Spike was a vampire but he forced himself to think of Spike as a man first. Maybe it was only a way to rationalize how he felt about the man, but so long as it worked, what did it matter? But 'game-face'? What the hell did Spike mean by that? He could see Spike was nervous about it and that made him nervous. He remembered seeing Lenore's mouth full of teeth when she fought against wanting Sam's blood and yeah, he really wouldn't be thrilled see all those teeth lining Spike's mouth but it's not like Spike would be showing them on a regular basis. Then again, the hellmouth vamps were like Dracula. So Spike was going to show him his fangs? A little unnerving probably, but Spike had already proven to him that though he might have fangs, but he didn't typically show them and okay, so maybe just a little, Dean thought Dracula fangs were kinda cool. Of course _real_ Drac fangs might be a whole different matter.

"Yeah. Okay," Dean said slowly.

A full moment later, Spike let out a curse. "Too bloody late to take back the offer, isn't it?" He no more wanted to see Dean's reaction to this, than he had wanted to see his reaction when he'd drank his blood, or to hear him spoil the moment they'd had in the car at the motel. The same instinct that had him leaving the hunter behind then was playing with his mind, making him want to do just that.

"I'm going to see this game face of yours eventually right? Probably when you're fighting or pissed off? I really don't want a surprise in the middle of a fight. I don't like surprises and don't like to be blind-sided." It was hard enough coming to terms with knowing Spike was a vampire. He hoped this didn't make it even harder. And Spike was near freaking out about this anyhow. He was determined he wouldn't make Spike's confidence in him lessen. He couldn't. They were on kinda shaky ground anyhow so he braced himself. After a moment and a deep breath to steady his nerves he gave a nod, determined not to let whatever Spike's game face was ruin it for them. 

If Spike thought about it anymore he was going to drive himself mad. Giving an almost imperceptible return nod, he shifted into game face, held perfectly still and opened his mouth, allowing a fierce snarl to escape him.

Whatever Dean was expecting, it wasn't what he saw before him. The change was almost drastic, a Cro-Magnon look to Spike's forehead, the fangs, the snarl. The eyes...Dean's breath hitched and he straightened and tensed, as the beautiful blue eyes were now yellow...not at all so different than those of the yellow eyed demon who'd killed his mom and his dad.

His jaw clenched. This was Spike and Spike had a soul. The devil's trap hadn't held him. He wasn't demon enough to be held by a devil's trap. There was no denying the eyes shook him damned near to the core of his being all the same. He forced himself to step forward. No, he would not let the yellow eyed demon ruin this too. Thoughts of Spike had consumed him, eaten him alive from the inside out. He would just have to accept it was part of Spike. It was the demon in Spike and nothing more, the demon that Spike obviously had well under control and would probably get rid of if he could. 

He stood in front of Spike and ran his hand along the side of Spike's face then over his changed forehead. The eyes...dammit the eyes were the worst of it. Everything thing else he could deal with...with time. What was it with eyes and supernatural creatures? Windows to the soul or something they said. The demonic soul or spirit, or whatever the hell it was showing through. What would he do if the eyes were black? It would freak him just as much or nearly so, and that was just the facts. So yellow, black, white, whatever, it would be an issue for him and always remind him Spike was part demon. Yellow was probably the worst of all possibilities, though. 

Why did the eyes have to be yellow dammit?

"I don't...I don't like the yellow eyes," Dean said slowly. "A yellow eyed demon killed our mom, our dad, and has some sort of plans for Sam. That...makes it hard for me, okay? It's gonna freak Sam out just as bad, maybe worse." He stared into those yellow eyes but saw the deep fear in them, fear of rejection or disgust or both.

Dean could do this, dammit. He had to. He had to prove to Spike it didn't matter, even if it maybe did. He would learn to deal. He would. He had to, because he wasn't willing to give Spike up just because of some damning yellow eyes.

Taking a deep breath he pulled Spike into his arms and kissed him, fangs and all. Spike tasted the same. He ran his tongue over the sharp fangs as he ran his hands over Spike's body. Nothing was different except the fangs and face and eyes. It was still _his_ Spike, still _his_ vampire. Still the man/vampire/whatever that his heart yearned for.

He broke the kiss and looked into the changed vampiric face of his lover. "You're still mine and I still want you. Just...just give me some time to deal with those damned eyes of yours, okay? Don't...don't change without giving me warning if you can. It _will_ freak me. But it's not because it proves you're a vampire. It's because of the yellow-eyed demon. Not you. Took me a while to deal with being in love with a vampire. Hell, I'm still dealing with it but giving you up isn't...I can't. I'm working on accepting it and I think I'm cool with it. But you gotta give me time on this too, okay? I might have dreams, nightmares, whatever. I might...I might jerk back from you sometimes, or I might say things I don't mean just cause you pissed me off. I'm gonna ask you to forgive me now and try to understand. The yellow-eyed demon took everything from me and is maybe trying to take my brother now too. You're not him but sometimes...sometimes it's gonna really mess with me." 

Spike shifted back, his eyes reverting to laser blue but still locked onto Dean's. "You didn't have to do that... prove yourself," he said quietly. "I know what I look like in game face. There's never any reason to see it, except when I'm fighting." He ran his thumb across Dean's lips, then slapped the his face lightly, keeping his palm there. "If you weren't freaked out, I'd think you were lying, or I'd be freaked, yeah?" 

Dean had to admit he was glad the handsome face of his lover was back, that those blue eyes were back. He tugged Spike a little closer. "Maybe I had to prove it to myself, that under that change, it was still you. That you taste the same, feel the same. And I _did_ have to prove it to you. You needed to be sure I wasn't gonna turn away from you and tell you to hit the road."

There wasn't more to say. He never expected Dean to like his game face, but he'd needed to know the hunter could live with it. Dropping his hand, he gave Dean a nod. "I'll help you fight your nightmares, and your enemies. If you let me."

"Haven't you figured out by now...I'll let you do damned near anything you want when it comes to me? Might even...might even let you bite me, fangs and all." He pulled Spike's body flush against his, reclaiming this human form of Spike's as his, kissing him fiercely, his hand on Spike's ass pressing their groins together. 

Dean's burning hot kisses quickly dispelled Spike's disbelief that Dean would ever offer his blood, especially if it involved being bitten. This was one very complicated man he was with. On the surface, judging from his behavior, he should have hated being tied up, should have railed against being at another man's mercy. And maybe Dean had, just a little, but on balance, he'd more than enjoyed having all of his power taken away for a short period. So maybe he did hate the supernatural creatures that walked the earth, and demons and vampires who drank human blood. And maybe, at the same time, a part of him found excitement in the very things he hated when they were brought to him in a controlled atmosphere.

And maybe Spike was about to drive himself mad trying to think deep thoughts when Dean was pressed up against him so hard, practically devouring his mouth and holding him like he'd never let go. Spike's blood thickened. His cock started to grow thick and heavy as need flooded his system. Groaning, he widened his legs and thrust his hips, trying to get the pressure he needed. He groped Dean, pressing his hands down over his ass and back, molding him closer, kissing him back the way he'd imagined it would be when he'd first walked into that farmhouse. He was the one to finally break the kiss. "You're a bit of a fraud, aren't you? Thought you had to breathe," he said, with a smile. "Touch me like that again, Winchester, and..." he shoved his hand into the waistband of Dean's jeans and tugged him closer. "I'll be wanting a rerun of our last time in the auto."

"I didn't say I couldn't hold my breath a long time," Dean said with a smirk. "Rerun...mmm, tempting. But you kept me up all night, it's a long drive back to town, and, as much as I love making out in my baby, it's a lot more fun with more room." He cupped a hand alongside Spike's face and kissed him gently then smacked him hard on the ass as he broke off their kiss. "Get in your car before I change my mind."

Dean forced himself to let Spike go, and reminded himself there was a motel room waiting for them. "Next time we get kinky, I get to tie you up and blindfold you," he tossed over his shoulder as he reached the car. Seeing Spike was still standing there between the cars, he grinned. "Get the lead out, dude. We're at the Castenet Motel on 41. And you damned well better follow me there. Don't make me hunt your ass down."

Dean slid behind the wheel, started the car and after backing up, spun her around and headed north, making sure Spike's car was following him. He slid in a tape and cranked the music, singing loudly and off key with the music. 

*

An hour later, Spike followed Dean into the motel room, banging into him when the hunter stopped suddenly. The sight that greeted them was probably a lot more comical to Spike than it was to Dean. 

Right there, in front of them, the petite Slayer had Sam pressed up against the wall with the pointy end of a stake against his chest. Though Buffy insisted she was five foot four, Spike didn't think she was much past the five foot mark. And there she was, one hand flat against the chest of a muscular man who was at least a foot and half taller, threatening him if he didn't tell her what they'd done to Spike.

"He's right there..." Sam said, shifting his eyes to a point behind the blonde, surprised that Spike was actually still alive and relieved to see Dean seemed okay as well.

Spike laughed. "Looks like you won't be saving me from your brother's stake, I'm the one saving him from the Slayer's. Buffy you can let the nice hunter go."

Whirling around, Buffy eyed all the men, and shoved the stake into her sleeve. "We heard the Winchesters were on their way here, and then you weren't answering your phone. Everything alright?" she asked, shooting a pointed look at Dean's torn up shirt.

The vampire nodded. "I think we've... ironed out our differences. Dean won't be trying to stake me anymore, at least with a stake."

"TMI," Buffy huffed, then stepped forward. 

Dean eyed the short blond then gave his brother a 'WTF, short shit about took you out?' look while Sam responded with a glance at Spike and a questioning look of why Spike was still in one piece. Dean smirked with that 'I just got laid' look and Sam rolled his eyes but wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not, not after everything he knew about William the Bloody.

"So, _you're_ the Slayer. Huh. Thought you'd be taller," Dean said returning his focus to the woman, trying to hide the fact he was pissed as hell that she had been threatening her brother. 

"So you're Dean?" She raised a brow. "Guess we _both_ get that a lot, having drawn the shortest in the family gene." 

"Nothing wrong with short," Spike inserted smoothly before an argument broke out. "Let's get the serious talk out of the way so we can get to the fun stuff. Pub."

"Almost daylight," Buffy pointed out, ignoring Spike's mock crestfallen look. "So, what do I need to do to make it clear Spike's playing on the Slayer team and he's off limits?"

"Well if someone had fucking talked with us when we tried to find out information about him, we might not have had this misunderstanding. Everything we found was about William, not Spike, so don't be getting all high and mighty on me sister," Dean retorted. "And I don't think he'll be playing on the Slayer team much longer. Might be he's had a better offer."

"You seriously thought we were going to answer your 'how do we kill him?' questions?" She rolled her eyes. "He's a vampire. It's my job to take care of vampires and I get to decide where there will be exceptions. You have questions about that, you look up 'Slayer, The' under any trustworthy reference. You want to know why Spike is an exception, look up 'Champion, The' under the subheading 'of Sunnydale'."

"It's really great to be fought over but..."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy said, still drilling the two hunters with her gaze. "I want to be clear on this, I don't have to time to run around after you to make sure you understand."

Dean glanced at Spike. "You put up with this shit from her?" he asked then turned back to the woman, piercing her with his own stare. "Fine. Let's make everything perfectly clear then." He turned, pulling Spike into his arms and kissing the vampire passionately. After finally breaking the kiss when he got the rewarding groan out of Spike he was shooting for, he swung his gaze back to the woman who definitely looked a little shocked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "If you'd bothered to get off your fucking high horse, 'Slayer, The' and listened to what I said, I said, he might have a better offer. Are we clear now?" Dean snapped, his eyes fairly blazing at this point. The woman had threatened his brother, told his lover to shut the fuck up, and was treating them all like she was God's gift to hunting. He'd about had enough of her shit. Superhero or not, woman or not, he was getting close to wanting to clock her one.

Buffy shifted her gaze to Spike, holding it for a moment. Something unspoken flowed between them and she seemed to relax. A smile curved her lips. "I like him a lot more than--"

"Buffy," Spike gave her a look 

"Right, old history. You wouldn't be interested. Spike, don't be a stranger." She walked to the door and opened it, then turned to look at the Winchesters. "Guess this makes us in-laws or something, so if you're ever in L.A., look me up. Maybe even show me what he sees in you," she said more pointedly to Dean, "other than that kiss..." 

"Sorry sweetheart, he's the only one who gets to see me naked."

Glaring at Dean, Buffy tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked out without another word.

The door closed behind her and Spike barred Dean's way, just in case. "She likes you," he nodded. "At least likes that kiss."

"Well she's not gonna get one. That sorta kiss is yours."

Feeling Spike's gaze on him, Sam raised his hands. "Dude, don't look at me, I was trying not to watch." He crossed the room and grabbed his jacket. "I'm getting a separate room. Talk over breakfast?" he asked, looking at Dean.

"Lunch. Spike and me, we've been up all night." He gave Sam a grateful look.

A smile tugged at Sam's mouth and he gave a small nod.

When Sam left, taking his computer and backpack with him, Dean turned to Spike, looking serious and maybe a bit worried. "Sam and I are close and it's gonna be an adjustment. For all of us. Maybe...maybe we take out this possible last vamp then go our separate ways for a week or two. You go back to L.A., sort out shit, and tend to things. We live on the road, don't usually stay any place long term, and no telling when you might get back there. As soon as Sam and I find our next hunt, I'll call and we'll meet up with you at it. You've got my number now too so don't think I'm trying to dump you. This'll give us both a little time and space. We'll work together, see how it goes." He ran his hand along the side of Spike's face. "I don't want this to be just a let's get together to get laid thing, I wanna do this right. Which does include a lot of sex by the way." Dean smirked. "I just wanna make sure Sam and you are good with working together, that you and he get along and I'm not just bringing you in all at once," Dean gave a shrug. "If the situation was reversed I'd be happy for him, but I'd probably also be a little jealous of having to share him." 

Seeing Spike's cocked eyebrow, Dean pushed him toward the bed. "He's my brother. You're my hot as hell lover who owes me one rock t-shirt and a pair of handcuffs, by the way." Dean turned Spike around when they reached the bed, then gave his shoulders a shove, sending the vampire falling back onto the mattress. "Huh, first time we've actually had a bed." He gave Spike an evil smile as he crawled up his body. "What say we christen it and make sure all our neighbors know it, especially since Sam will probably end up right next door."

"You sure you're up for strenuous exercise?" Spike asked, closing his arms around Dean and smiling. "You could sleep, and I could bang the headboard on the wall and keep your reputation safe." His teasing was brought to an abrupt halt by Dean's mouth over his, which was just fine with Spike. They'd take it slow, let tomorrow take care of itself. He knew the brothers were close and set in their hunting ways and wasn't about to go and change everything for them overnight. And he had no doubt that both men would want or need to know more about his time as William the Bloody, and the change that came over him. But it would be in a different atmosphere, not in one where a wrong answer might mean death. Just something to be expected.

Dean's calloused palms slide under Spike's shirt and suddenly, everything else faded away. It was time to play with his _new teammate_. 

THE END


End file.
